It Always Comes Back
by flashymom
Summary: You know the old saying, "Be careful what you do, it may come back to haunt you later." 25 years ago Bobby met Amy in Germany. Now, he's faced with the consequences.
1. The Uso Dance

_I don't own any of the usual LOCI characters. I'm merely borrowing them and playing with them for a while. Thanks to DW. All of the other usual disclaimers apply._

**CHAPTER ONE – THE USO DANCE**

**Germany, June, 1983**

He walked into the Heidelberg USO with his CID colleagues, all in their Army mess greens, shoes shined, hats in hand, and eager to meet women, something they hadn't been able to do properly since their arrival in January. The 5 young men paused inside the doorway to get their bearings; oh, yes, this would be well worth the wait.

Several pretty young women had noticed their arrival with great interest and moved in to meet them; smiles wide and eyes bright, they had gone boldly up to the young men and willingly allowed themselves to be led off onto the dance floor. Oh, yes, definitely worth the wait.

Robert Goren watched his colleagues and grinned. He was happy for them. They'd been waiting for this dance for weeks and deserved it as a reward for all their effort and hard work. He moved smoothly and gracefully in the opposite direction, towards the bar and away from the hoard of eager young ladies crowding the entrance. To him they were like a pack of giggly hyenas, waiting to pounce on whatever unsuspecting game came through the door.

He didn't mind these functions; the USO put on a great evening, and dances such as this were a way for him to catch up with other friends he'd made during his 3 years in the service. This was his first USO dance since coming to Germany and he was eager to visit "off duty" with several of his buddies who were also stationed here.

The bartender filled his order for a beer; he didn't usually drink beer, but had discovered German beer and found the one he now sipped to be a particular favorite.

"Bobby!" He turned to find himself face to face with "Richard!" The two men shook hands and pulled each other into a friendly embrace.

Richard Guthrie and Robert Goren had met when both were stationed at Ft. Belvoir, VA. While not in the same platoon, they had met at the gym and become fast friends. The two men discovered a shared love of reading, Mets baseball, and chasing skirts. The latter activity had provided the opportunity for many of their escapades back then.

Richard stepped back and put his arm around the beautiful smiling woman next to him. "Bobby, this is Rachel MacAllistair…my fiancée. She's over here visiting for a few weeks."

"Fiancee? You son of a gun!" Robert grinned at Rachel. "This calls for a drink. What'll you have?"

The three spent tiem visiting and catching up; Robert was very happy for Richard and Rachel and wished them all the best. As the happy couple moved away to visit other friends, his view of the rest of the room opened up and he was able to scan the dance floor.

This USO was like any other: a large hall with a raised stage at one end for shows and bands and a bar area at the other. The wooden dance floor was in the middle and metal folding chairs lined the side walls.

It was the wall to his left that caught his attention. Three young ladies were whispering and giggling amongst themselves, occasionally covering their mouths as they spoke and laughed. It was obvious they were watching the guys; they'd point, giggle, wave, comment behind their hands and smile.

Her smile took the breath right out of him and captured his gaze. He found himself transfixed when their eyes seemed to meet. Her gaze caught his and she held it for a few seconds before nudging her friend. She said something behind her hand and the girl next to her looked his direction as well. Her eyes widened and she turned and whispered into the first one's ear. Whatever her friend had said caused her to turn away from him and re-focus her attention on the two friends sitting with her.

Robert continued to sip his beer and look in their direction. His patience was soon rewarded, as the raven haired beauty caught his gaze again.

Amy knew he'd been looking at her, so she had deliberately looked back at Susan and Kelly and pointedly ignored him for a few minutes. She was here to celebrate Kelly's 21st birthday, NOT to meet someone. Susan told her he was still looking in her direction.

Inwardly, she sighed as she looked his way again. What's the harm, she thought. I'm going back to school in August. A summer flirt could be fun.

This time she held his gaze steadily, daring him to look away first. A minute later, several couples on the dance floored crossed her line of sight, and when they had twirled away, he was gone.

It's just as well, she thought. I'm not ready yet. Kelly leaned in her direction and caught her attention again.

"What about that one," she asked Amy, pointing at a soldier who looked like he could be the next Calvin Klein underwear model. "Oh, my," gasped Amy, and the three friends dissolved into fits of giggling, leaning into each other. Amy was practically bent over in Susan's lap with laughter when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Amy turned her head to find herself staring at a pair of extremely muscular and well-toned thighs. She gulped as she sat up and her gaze continued to travel upward, taking in his narrow well-toned waist, flat, tight abs, broad chest and shoulders that seemed to stretch out forever on either side of him. She continued her optical journey up to the heavens to find the most incredible pair of brown eyes atop a quirky grin looking back at her with a bemused expression. Oh, my……Amy's thoughts evaporated as the soldier's grin became a handsome smile. She gulped again and sat up even straighter.

He held his hand out to her. "Would you like to dance with me," his soft, low voice asked.

Amy was very surprised to hear herself saying, "Yes" as she was usually the one doing the asking. She took his offered hand and allowed him to guide her out onto the dance floor.

He was tall, very tall; not as tall as her father, but close enough. This soldier, no, MAN Amy corrected her thoughts, was thankfully taller than her.

At 5 foot 10, Amy took after her father in the height department; being so tall had often intimidated the boys growing up, but this man seemed unintimidated by anything.

"I'm Bobby," he said as he looked down at his beautiful dance partner. Damn, those eyes are blue, he thought to himself. _A man could drown in those big, blue eyes of hers._

"I'm Amy," she replied.

"Do you have a last name, Amy?"

"Does it matter," she responded, meeting his eyes matter-of-factly. "Do we have to use last names in a place like this?"

"I guess not," he replied.

The music changed to a slower tempo and he reached to pull her closer. "Will you dance with me some more? Please?"

"Well, since you asked so politely, how could I refuse?" Amy allowed Bobby to wrap his long, strong arms around her and pull her close. I could get used to this, Amy thought, as she rested her cheek on his shoulder and they swayed together in time to the music.

Between dances and drinks, Bobby and Amy had managed to chat. It was the usual chatting between two people just getting acquainted: where are you from, why are you here. They surprised each other by both having lived in New York City.

"I LOVE the City," she gushed. "My grandparents live in Manhattan. I remember skating in Central Park and Rockefeller Center during visits for Christmas. Grandpa just loves the Metropolitan Museum of Art, so I grew up spending many a Saturday there with him."

"So, why exactly are you HERE, in Germany," Bobby asked.

"To dance with you, of course!" she responded, her blue eyes dancing merrily at him.

Bobby felt his stomach drop and his heartbeat accelerate.

"I-I mean, that can't be the only reason, can it," he tilted his head to one side as he asked.

Uh, oh….thought Amy, I could be in trouble with this one…..

"I'm just here for the summer," she heard herself saying.

Bobby didn't respond but remained quiet as he studied her.

Amy chose her next words carefully. "My father is stationed here, so I came over for the summer to visit my family. I have to go back on August 3rd."

"That's too bad," Bobby replied, as he reached across the table and wrapped his hands around hers. "We'll just have to make the most of the time we have, then." As he said this, he pulled her hands toward him, leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly across her knuckles. "Dance with me again," he asked her. Amy didn't think she could stand up, her knees were like Jell-O from his caress, but she took a deep breath and managed to follow him out onto the dance floor.

She recognized the opening strains of "Save the Last Dance for Me", and looked up at Bobby sadly. "You have good timing. This is the traditional final song of the evening."

"Then let's dance," said Bobby, as he once again wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.


	2. Saturday

**CHAPTER 2 – SATURDAY**

Amelia Marie Wainwright's alarm clock woke her up at 8:00 Saturday morning. Her thoughts went back to the handsome, very tall, young man she had met and danced with the night before. Remembering made her smile. The evening had been quite enjoyable after meeting Bobby. He loved to dance and was quite good at it, dipping and twirling her around the dance floor; they enjoyed sitting at a table and chatting together. She had been sad when the evening ended, and pleased that he had asked her out for Saturday night.

She got up and went into the bathroom. Saturday was her favorite day of the week and she quickly showered and dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast with her parents. As she went down the stairs, she paused to look at the picture of her and her Grandpa AJ that hung on the wall in the landing. She gently touched the picture and smiled, then continued on her way.

Amy's grandfather was Adam Jefferson Wainwright, Senior, a billionaire industrialist and Manhattan philanthropist who loved the Metropolitan Museum of Art, fine wine and Amy's grandmother Amelia. Adam and Amelia divided their time between Manhattan and their enormous Wainwright Estate in Utica, New York. Amy spent her summers and vacations with Grampa AJ and Mama A surrounded by wealth and luxury. Saturday visits to the Met were usually followed by Sundays up in Utica. The stability her grandparents had given her was a nice balance to the nomadic life of a military family.

Not just any military family, Amy thought. _MY daddy is a general._ And now she was spending her summer in Heidelberg, Germany, at the base where her daddy was in charge. Hopefully, things would be different this time, she prayed. Being the daughter of high ranking officer had its good points and bad points. The good points were being treated nicely and respectfully all the time. The bad points were not knowing if you were being treated nicely because they liked you, or nicely because of who your father was. Boys either wanted to date her to score points with their friends or score points with her father.

She spent a nice morning with her parents, chatting over breakfast and helping her dad in the garden. Then she cleaned up and headed into town.

"So, spill," insisted Kelly. Amy, Kelly and Susan were sitting in their favorite lunch spot in downtown Heidelberg for their usually Saturday "girls' lunch", a tradition going all the way back to 8th grade and Foot Hood, Texas, where the three girls had met and become fast friends.

"Well," said Amy, as she shifted in her seat. "He's nice, very sweet….he's from New York City. Oh, and he's taller than me. "

"That's great," commented Kelly. She understood the trials Amy had had in the past with her height and dating.

"He's cute, too," giggled Susan.

Amy rolled her eyes; Susan had always been more interested in looks than substance. "We had fun," she said, intending to leave it at that. "Why did ya'll leave so early?"

"As if you didn't know," said Kelly.

Amy looked pointedly at her. "You left early because of ME? Honestly, you two! It's only been 3 months, not 3 years!"

Amy had fallen hard for Roger Dent, a fellow classmate of hers at Texas A&M, where she was studying History and Literature. They had met on the first day of classes and been inseparable. Everyone expected them to get married until Amy discovered back in February that Roger was cheating on her – with HIS roommate! Amy managed to salvage the rest of her spring semester and couldn't wait to take her parents up on their offer to spend her summer break in Germany. As her flight had taken off last week, all of Amy's troubles seemed to fall away with the ground below her, and a summer full of nothing as vast as the horizon before her eased her mind and soothed her soul.

The flight over had also given Amy time to reflect. The last three years at A&M had been good to her. No one there seemed to mind that she was an heiress; everyone she knew at A&M was too busy studying and enjoying college life to pay much attention to the size of your bank account or who your granddaddy was. It had made Amy happy to just be Amy and not Amy Wainwright, AJ Wainwright's granddaughter. She had adapted well and enjoyed the relative anonymity at college and the time away from the elite social scene of New York, where her last name opened doors and her face was easily recognized.

"Well, he certainly seemed interested in you. He couldn't take his eyes off you the whole time," commented Susan. "Or, hadn't you noticed?"

She HAD noticed, and that was a problem. Her plan had been to come stay with her folks, work in the PX and spend all her free time hanging out with Susan and Kelly. She wasn't about to let anything or anyone, for that matter, change that.

"Did he kiss you," asked Kelly, interrupting Amy's thoughts.

"Wha…? No! He was a perfect gentleman. Great dancer, too," replied Amy.

"Uh-hunh," said Susan. "Look at her Kelly, she's a goner." Kelly and Susan nodded in agreement.

"I am not!"

"Oh, Amy, you are, too! And what could it hurt? I mean, really, just see the guy while you're here; we're not saying you have to marry him. Just hang out with him. It'll be good for you. Get your mind off Roger and……Oh, Amy, I'm sorry!" Susan tried to back-peddle, but Amy silenced her with a look.

"I'll be OK," said Amy, stone faced. "Really. Oh, look! Our food is here."

The rest of the meal passed quickly; Susan and Kelly caught Amy up on all the exploits of University life in Switzerland, and worked hard to convince her to drop out of A&M and join them in Europe.

"Does he know who you are," Kelly asked over dessert.

Amy sighed; she was tired of her last name, tired of it being a problem, tired of it messing up her life. "No, we didn't exchange last names. I know his is "Goren", though. It was on his uniform."

"Are you sure not telling him your last name was the right thing to do," questioned Susan. "Especially since he's from New York……."

Inwardly, Amy cringed, knowing deep down that Susan and Amy were right. Bobby should know, and she decided to tell him tonight. And hope for the best, she thought.

"I'll tell him tonight," she stated.

"Tonight," Kelly and Susan said together.

"What's tonight," Susan wondered.

"Movie night," Amy replied simply. She gathered up her trash, stood and started for the exit, Susan and Kelly hot on her heels.

"Goren," he mumbled as he rolled over, phone cradled to his ear. Bobby's Saturday had not started off as well as Amy's. He had been drowning in a pair of pretty blue eyes, a wonderful dream from which he had been rudely awakened by an early morning phone call.

"We got him," said Williamson. Ted Williamson was another member of the CID in Seckenheim, Germany, where Bobby was deployed. "Just like you figured. He's waiting in the holding cell. The Captain says you should have the honors of interrogating him since you figured out where he would be."

"OK, I'll be in as soon as I can. Thank you," said Bobby. He hung up the phone, rolled over onto his back, hands behind his head, and sighed up at the ceiling.

CID, the Army's Criminal Investigation Division, was the perfect fit for Robert "Bobby" Goren. His high intelligence and unique ability to read people and their behavior made him a natural. The CID was an elite military police unit of less than 2,000 soldiers that handled only the most serious of felony offenses and sensitive investigations inside the Army, and his unit appreciated and highly valued his skills and abilities. He was challenged by his CID work and thoroughly enjoyed getting inside suspects' heads and solving puzzles.

"Might as well get up; don't want to keep my suspect waiting," he said to himself.

Bobby rolled his long frame out of bed, and headed for the bathroom. A flash of blue on the bathroom counter caught his eye and made him think of Amy. Amy. Wow. He never expected to meet someone like her last night, certainly not at a USO dance. She was class and beauty, and he felt slightly out of his league with her, yet intrigued enough to want more. She was funny and bright and so easy to be with. He had found himself disappointed when the evening came to an end, and pleasantly surprised when she agreed to see him again tonight.

He had walked her to her car and asked for her phone number, when she stopped him.

"I'll meet you there," she stated, as she got into her car. They had decided on a movie at a local movie theatre, neither one interested in spending this date surrounded by soldiers at the post cinema.

"Can I call you tomorrow," Bobby leaned down and looked into her window.

"I'll meet you there," she re-stated, firmer this time. Then she flashed him a huge smile. "Trust me," she said.

Bobby stood back in amazement as she started her car and drove away. This was going to be a very interesting summer.

The hot shower combined with the urgent need for coffee and breakfast broke Bobby out of his reverie. He smiled as he finished getting himself ready to go in to the office. Once there, the group 

made short work of the suspect, having plenty of evidence to easily convince the man that it was over. Satisfied with the work they had done, the men started making plans for that evening.

"Come have a drink with us," Ted said to Bobby.

"No, thank you, I have plans," Bobby said casually.

"He met someone last night," said Mark Dickson. "Big blue eyes, gorgeous smile, and mile-long legs."

Bobby looked quickly over at Mark in shock.

"Yeah, man, we noticed," Mark chuckled. "You made out better than we did. Her friends were really cute. You think they'd be interested in any of us?"

Bobby laughed at the good natured ribbing he was getting. "I don't know, man. I didn't find out if they like cops or not."

Bobby pulled into the parking lot across from the movie theater that evening and parked his car. As he headed for the sidewalk, he began to scan the crowd gathering outside the theater. He had almost given up when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Hi!" she said pertly. "I told you I'd be here."

Bobby turned to find himself staring once again into the blue eyes that had haunted his thoughts most of the day.

"And here you are," he said. "Shall we go," he asked as he offered her his arm.

"Why not," she replied with a laugh, as she took his arm and fell in step beside him.

They had chosen the movie "Airplane!" Both had seen it before, but not with German voices dubbed in and English subtitles at the bottom of the picture. It had made a funny movie even funnier and they had laughed hysterically throughout, enjoying both the movie and each other's company.

Afterward, they stopped at a coffee shop for more conversation. Bobby took the lead, telling her about his work with the CID and growing up in Brooklyn.

"I do have one big problem, though," he mentioned casually as they neared the end of their coffee.

"What's that," Amy wondered out loud, looking at him over the rim of her mug.

"I don't have your phone number. How do I get in touch with you without your phone number? Heck, I don't even know your last name, for that matter. I wanted to look up your number when I was in the office this morning, and realized I don't know your last name."

Amy put down her mug firmly on the table. "Promise you won't get upset."

"What?" Bobby's mouth suddenly went dry at the seriousness of Amy's expression and concern began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

"Promise," she insisted.

Bobby cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Bobby, this is important. Please, promise me you won't get mad," Amy insisted.

"Oh-kaaaay. I promise," Bobby said, albeit slightly unsure what this was all about. Her behavior made him very nervous and suddenly he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his question.

"Wainwright." Amy looked firmly into his eyes. "My last name is Wainwright."

Bobby returned her gaze equally as firmly. "And that's supposed to mean, what, exactly?"

"General Adam Wainwright. My dad is General Adam Wainwright."

Bobby didn't know he was holding his breath until he let it out with a short laugh. "Oh. Is that all? I thought you were going to say your dad was the President of the United States, or a serial killer, not the head of the Heidelberg installations."

Amy stared at Bobby. "You mean it doesn't matter to you?"

"Amy, I work in Mannheim. CID isn't under your father's command. I don't answer directly to him. I might, if there's an investigation involving anyone under him, but we don't cross paths. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, the Army is just a means to an end for me. I want to go into law enforcement after my time in the service. I want to be on the NYPD."

Amy relaxed then, feeling as though a huge weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.

After coffee, Bobby drove her back to her car and saw her safely to the door. As she slid into her seat, Bobby leaned down to give her a kiss. She stopped him with a finger to his lips, and a soft look on her face. "Not so fast, officer," she told him. "Maybe next time. You do have my phone number now. I had a nice time. Thank you."

She pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, her "Good night, Bobby" ringing in his ears as he stared after her.


	3. Understanding Amy

**CHAPTER 3 UNDERSTANDING AMY**

It didn't take long for word to pass through the Heidelberg military community that Amy Wainwright had a suitor. Working at the PX was a high visibility job, and as she good-naturedly turned down the many requests for dates from eager, love-struck soldiers, word spread that the general's daughter was off the market. Turning up on post with the same date several times had only solidified that opinion, and eventually the requests quit coming.

Kelly and Susan thought all this quite funny, as they knew Amy and Bobby were still not terribly serious about each other. At least Amy wasn't, insisting that Bobby was merely someone fun and safe to be with while she sorted out her feelings regarding the whole Roger debacle.

After about a month, Bobby pressed Amy hard as to why she was keeping him at arm's length while being willing to go out with him as much as their schedules allowed. He had never dated someone who seemed uninterested in anything more than a hug at the end of a date, and he was quite puzzled by her behavior. Bobby had a desperate longing to pull Amy into his arms and kiss her senseless at the end of their next date, but wasn't sure he wouldn't get his face slapped. He decided he had to ask her what was going on.

"Is it me," Bobby questioned her at lunch one day. She had driven over to Mannheim to join him for lunch and do some shopping on her day off.

Amy knew eventually he'd asked. She'd allow him to hug her after their dates, but nothing more.

"No."

"Are you sure? We've been seeing each other for a month now and you won't let me kiss you. I think I deserve to know if I've done something wrong."

"You haven't done anything wrong. Really," Amy said, looking down at her lunch.

Bobby tilted his head to the side, leaning forward to catch her eyes, and looked at her silently.

If this is how he interrogates suspects, no wonder he's so good. One look from him, and they must all willingly confess, she thought to herself, feeling her composure wilt under his solid look.

"There was a guy, back at school……" Amy began. Bobby remained silent, his gaze steady and understanding.

Amy took a deep breath and went on. "We met the first day of classes at A&M. Literature 101. We hit it off as friends, drinking buds actually, and it just went from there. Studying together led to football game dates, and eventually we weren't interested in dating other people. I was swept away by a handsome young man who loved history and literature as much as I did. By the time Christmas rolled around last year, everyone we knew had us all but married off. We went to the same church, had the same beliefs, both wanted jobs and kids…..it seemed so perfect……." Amy let her voice trail off and her gaze shifted away from Bobby.

"What happened, Amy," Bobby asked softly. "What did he do?"

Amy didn't answer, but sat staring into space, fighting back the tears.

"Amy?"

" Wh-when Christmas came and went last year with no hint of an engagement ring, or promise ring, I finally managed to get him to tell me that he wanted to wait until our senior year. I wasn't too happy at first, but he quickly re-assured me that he had it all planned out and to just be patient."

"Were you?"

"Yes. He had quite a way with words," Amy replied. That's not all he had quite a way with she remembered.

Bobby watched the emotions play over her face before he softly asked, "What did he do to you, Amy?"

"He cheated on me," she intoned.

Amy remembered it as though it was yesterday. Roger becoming more evasive, begging off studying together, even hinting that he needed time and space away from her. She had understood, as they had been exclusive for two years at that point and seeing other people could only help them solidify their feelings towards each other.

Then she had showed up at his apartment unannounced that fateful February day. She let herself in as she usually did, and headed to the kitchen. Her plan was to surprise him after his classes with his favorite meal, in hopes that they could get their relationship back on track and have a long over-due talk over steaks and a good bottle of red wine.

Noises from Kenneth's bedroom caused her to stop and turn in that direction. She checked her watch, the time indicating that neither Roger nor his roommate Kenneth should be home, but still on campus. The noises became voices, and froze her in her tracks. She recognized Roger's voice, followed by Kenneth's. The blood drained from her face as the realization of what she was hearing began to sweep over her. Anxiety filled her every pore and she began to shake, dropping the bag of groceries on the floor.

She was still standing there, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing as the bedroom door opened and Roger, wrapped in a sheet, stared stunned at her.

"Amy? Amy, wh-what are you doing here," he asked her.

"Me?! What are YOU doing here," she whispered back. "And with HIM? Is this why you needed space? When were you going to tell me?"

Eventually the whole sordid truth had come out. Explanations were given, feelings discussed, tears shed. Amy was devastated, and left with a broken heart. Her parents had been surprisingly understanding, offering to help her drop out and move to Germany right then, but common sense prevailed, and Amy had managed to salvage the rest of her semester.

As Amy shared all this with Bobby, the reasons for her behavior became clear. Bobby reassured her that he could handle taking things at her pace, just having fun and enjoying each other's company. He liked Amy a lot, and found himself unwilling to add any more hurt to her heart right now. For someone who chased skirts for a hobby, this was uncharted territory, and Bobby found himself enjoying the experience.

Neither one should have been too worried about their relationship moving too fast. Work kept both of them quite busy. Bobby's job with the CID had him conducting investigations at Army posts all over Germany, sometimes keeping him out of town for days at a time. Amy was quickly promoted to a 

swing-shift management position at the PX and welcomed the extra hours, as they kept her busy while Bobby was working.

Susan and Kelly insisted that Amy continue meeting them for their traditional Saturday lunch in town. There the three girls chatted about work and boys and discussed all the latest post gossip. Since all three now had boyfriends, plans were made to all go out together. That first evening had been so much fun, the three couples had been out several times together since. The summer was shaping up to be just what Amy had wanted: fun and relaxation; no pressures, no worries.

July edged closer to August; no one wanted to bring up Amy needing to go back to the States for her senior year.


	4. Amy's Special Day

**CHAPTER 4 -- AMY'S SPECIAL DAY**

"Amy. Amy. Wake up, Amy." Elizabeth Wainwright's voice woke Amy early on the last Saturday in July.

"Mo-oommm…..no," Amy said, rolling over to face her mom and opening one very sleepy eye.

Amy's mom was standing next to the bed holding a tray. On the tray was a cup of vanilla yogurt, a bowl of fresh peaches, a cup of coffee and a single red rose in a vase.

"Sit up now. Time to eat. You've got a busy day ahead of you," she said, placing the tray over Amy's lap.

"Why are you bringing me breakfast in bed," Amy asked. "It isn't my birthday, I'm not sick. We're not moving again, are we?" Amy looked sideways at her mother. "The last time you brought me breakfast in bed it was to tell me we were moving."

"I remember, and no, we're not moving. You're Dad is planning on being here for a while. No, I'm not the person responsible for your getting breakfast in bed. Eat up and get dressed. Oh, and don't forget to read the note on the tray. Enjoy!" Elizabeth waved at Amy with a big smile as she left the room.

Amy loved fresh peaches and as she sank her teeth into one of the juice wedges, she opened the note. "My favorite lady's favorite breakfast. Find out more downstairs," the unsigned note read. Hmmm, Amy thought. Who knows peaches and vanilla yogurt are my favorite breakfast?

Amy's eyes moved to the single red rose in the vase on the tray. I wonder….she thought to herself. I guess I'd better eat up and get downstairs.

Amy could hear her parents talking and moving around in the kitchen when she got downstairs. She carried her tray into the kitchen and set it on the counter next to the sink, and pulled the rose out of the vase.

"Dad? Is this from you," she asked her dad, going over to give him a hug.

"Nope, not from me," he answered her with a big smile. "This note is also for you. You're supposed to read it and tell me where to take you. I have a job today, and that is to drive you wherever you need to go."

Amy gave her dad a quizzical look as she took the note from him. "Do you know what's going on," she asked him.

"Yes, your mom and I both know at least part of it, but we're sworn to secrecy. Go on, read the note. I'm eager to find out what's next."

"This is a scavenger hunt. You are to figure out each clue and allow your father to drive you from location to location. There will be items for you to pick up at each location along with a note containing the clue to the next location. Start by going to where you work. Private Dutton will have your first item and your next clue." The note was unsigned.

A bewildered Amy looked up at her father. "You know who's behind this? And you're OK with helping?" Her dad nodded in answer to both questions.

"Well, OK. Let me grab my purse and we'll be off. Bye, Mom."

"Bye, Amy. Bye, AJ. Remember, it's a secret." Elizabeth gave Amy and AJ each a hug and smile.

AJ led Amy out the door and around to the driveway. There was a cute red German sports car, a convertible, its top down, beckoning them to hop in and go for a drive.

"Your carriage awaits, milady," said AJ, as he opened the passenger door and waved Amy inside. "You are to scavenge in style, my dear."

"Oh, wow! I've always wanted to have a car like this! Dad, are you sure you're not behind this?"

"Absolutely," AJ said. "Amy, you have nothing to worry about. The person behind this just wants you to have a fun relaxing day before you have to leave for school. Trust me, if I wasn't comfortable, would I be willing to drive you around?"

Her dad had a point, Amy had to admit to herself. She wondered who could be behind all this and why as they drove across the post to the PX.

Private Dutton was waiting by the door as they pulled up in front of the building that housed the PX. He was holding a single red rose and a note in one hand, and a large, brown paper bag in the other.

"Here you go, ma'am," he said to Amy as he handed her the items. "My instructions are to tell you to please leave the bag closed, and to have a great day. General." Private Dutton came to attention and saluted as he acknowledged AJ sitting in the driver's seat.

"At ease, son," AJ replied as he returned the salute. "Thank you for your help."

Amy did as she was instructed and read the note after she got back into her seat. "2 roses, 2 clues, and the start of something really fun. Stop by Susan's house next."

Susan's house was followed by Kelly's, each girl having a rose, a note and another brown paper bag. The back seat was starting to get full, and Amy and AJ were starting to get very curious.

"Dad, are you sure you know nothing more than just to drive me around? Can you please give me any sort of a hint as to who's behind this?"

"You know the person, I can tell you that much. You're mother and I know this person as well, and we are perfectly OK with all this."

Amy could tell by her father's tone of voice that no more information on the subject would be forthcoming, so she turned on the radio while they headed to their next destination. Three more stops followed, and finally Amy began to get some much needed answers to her questions.

"Please go to where we had our first date," she read. "Bobby! Is Bobby behind this," she asked her dad.

"Now, that is a question I can answer. Yes, he is. I'm only allowed to say that because you figured that much out. Where do we go from here," AJ asked her.

"The movie theater, the one downtown," Amy was really getting excited now. "Bobby planned this." She sat back in her seat in wonder at his thoughtfulness and marveled at all the trouble he went to just for her.

There was a boom box waiting for Amy at the movie theater, along with a rose and another note. "Please have AJ drive you to where we first met. Dad, we met at a USO dance, so I guess we go to the USO hall."

When they pulled up at the USO building, there was an open door with a chair sitting next to it. On the chair were a rose and a note. Amy got out and picked up the note. "Please take this rose and come inside."

Amy entered the building and looked around. She thought she heard music coming from the main hall where the dances were held, so she moved in that direction. Amy began to smile as she entered the hall and recognized the music. It was the song they had first danced to the night they met, and there was Bobby, standing in the middle of the dance floor.

"Will you dance with me," he asked her as she came near. She giggled and said, "I would love to."

As they danced, Amy looked up at Bobby. "What is all this for? I'm really curious about all the stuff out in the car, and the roses, and this…."

"I just wanted to make your last weekend in Germany a special one. I don't want you to forget about me once you get back to school and get around all those college guys again. I want to give you a reason to come back over Christmas break. Other than just to see your family, I mean."

Amy was floored. "I've never had anyone do anything like this for me before. This was a lot of hard work. When did you find time for all this?"

"I made time for you Amy. I'm serious when I tell you I want you to come back at Christmas. I really want to see you beyond just this summer. I know you've had your heart broken and you're not interested in a serious relationship just yet, but you've become someone very special to me and I want to keep seeing you. If you're interested……." Bobby's voice trailed off.

"Can I think about it? I mean, I plan on coming back at Christmas, but I don't know what's going to happen between now and then. I'll write and we can call on the phone….I want to keep in touch with you; you're special to me, too….can we leave it at that for now?"

"For now," Bobby replied. "We're still not done with your special day, though. Would you like to know what's out in the car?"

"Oh, my goodness! The car! My dad's out there," Amy exclaimed. She grabbed Bobby's hand and pulled him out to the parking lot.

The red car was still in the parking lot, where her dad had left it, but AJ was gone.

"Where's my dad," Amy wondered.

"Your mom came and picked him up. All part of my plan," Bobby told her. "I rented the car for us for the day. Do you remember what you told me when you saw one just like this in town a while back?"

Amy just stared at Bobby as he continued. "You told me you would love to ride around Germany in a car just like that one. So, let's go." Bobby handed her the keys and opened the driver's door for her. Amy was still stunned as she slid into the driver's seat and ran her hands over the leather-

covered steering wheel. Bobby moved around to the passenger side and got in. He looked over at her and grinned.

"Sweet, isn't she? I picked her up yesterday and it was all I could do not to drive over to your house right then." He reached into the back seat and picked up one of the paper bags and looked inside. After looking through all of them, he placed one in her lap. "Look inside."

Amy peered into the bag and saw a map. She took it out and saw a route drawn on the map with yellow highlighter. The route led from Heidelberg up into the mountains. "The mountains," Amy gasped. "I wanted to see the mountains before I left and thought I was going to run out of time. Oh, Bobby, you remembered that, too!"

"I've remembered lots of things you've told me, Amy," Bobby said softly.

Amy looked over at Bobby and smiled. "Thank you, Bobby. This is so nice, and so much fun."

Bobby watched Amy relax as she pulled the car out of the parking lot and headed towards the mountains. His eyes took in her beauty and the joy she was having driving the car. Amy, you're killing me, he thought to himself. You're killing me and you don't even realize it.

Bobby had been planning this day for the last two weeks. He knew Amy's summer was quickly coming to an end and he wanted her to have one last special memory to take back to college with her. But it was also more than that. For weeks now, Bobby had been determined to get Amy to kiss him. He understood she wasn't ready to rush into another serious long term relationship. He could respect a broken heart and its need for time to heal. He just couldn't understand the whole no kissing thing that Amy had going on, and was hoping that something really special would make her so happy with him she'd kiss him in appreciation.

His attraction to Amy had been growing exponentially with every date. They had wonderful conversations; both loved books and had read many of the same and enjoyed discussing and picking them apart together. She enjoyed listening to him share about his day and his work and they laughed together over the crazy things that went on at her job at the PX.

Amy loved dancing as much as Bobby did, so they had had several enjoyable dates at nightclubs. Bobby wasn't sure how much more dancing with Amy he could tolerate. Holding her close to him, knowing she didn't want a physical relationship right now, was driving him insane. He was at the breaking point in his resolve to respect her wishes and wasn't sure how much longer he could restrain himself.

"Amy?" She looked over at him and smiled.

Inwardly, Bobby groaned as he was hit by the full force of her smile.

Amy, what's it gonna take for me to be able to kiss you, he thought to himself, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and looking down at his lap, not realizing he had just spoken loud enough for Amy to hear him.

"WHAT??" Amy yelled, pulling over onto the side of the road and slamming on the breaks. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing, I was thinking to myself, not talking out loud," Bobby responded, his heart still pounding in his chest from her yelling and slamming on the breaks. "Why did you pull o-"

He was unable to finish as he suddenly found Amy's mouth on his, and her sitting in his lap. He moaned and wove his fingers through her long dark hair, holding her to him. She wrapped her left arm around his neck and curled her fingers through his hair and moaned back. Time seemed to stop. She placed her right hand on his chest, moved it up slowly to his shoulder and down his arm, taking his hand in hers.

He squeezed her hand, released it gently, and placed his left hand on her knee. His hand slowly slid up her thigh, his fingers applying gentle squeezes and slipping up under the hem of her shorts to trace circles on her inner thigh. She inhaled sharply and squirmed on his lap, deepening their kiss even more.

He groaned and melted into the seat. He moved his hand to her hip, and slowly slid it up her side, his thumb coming to rest under her breast. When Amy shifted slightly, raising her right arm to place her hand on the side of his face, he began to trace her nipple with his thumb. She gasped in pleasure and nipped his lower lip, then pulled it into her mouth and suckled it. Bobby thought he was going to die. None of the girls he had been with ever made him feel the way Amy did right now.

He shifted her on his lap, continuing to caress her breast until she was making little yelping sounds in the back of her throat and arching into his hand. Slowly he slid his hand down to the waistband of her shorts. When she made no move to stop him, he undid them and slipped his hand inside, caressing the soft skin of her belly. Amy arched her back and groaned. Bobby began to kiss the side of her neck as his hand continued to work its magic, slowly slipping under the waistband of her panties.

Other men had caressed and nuzzled her before, but Amy didn't remember any of them ever making her feel this wanton, this wild, this on fire, and she found herself not wanting him to stop. She turned on his lap, giving him full access to her body, her back pressed against his chest, her head on his shoulder. As his hand dipped lower still, she reached out and grabbed the door handle with her right hand, and wrapped her left up and around his head, her fingers searching out his dark curls.

When he found her most intimate place, she cried out in passion and gripped the handle even tighter. Bobby carried her higher and higher, delighting in the feelings he was giving her and pleased by her reaction. He shifted his head and watched the passion building on her face, and when she finally exploded from his caresses, he captured her mouth and kept her there, bringing her heaving body down slowly, holding her as she shook with release, hugging her to him afterwards.

She buried her face in his neck and curled up into his chest, allowing him to stroke her back, listening to his breathing, amazed by her reaction to him.


	5. This Can't Be Happening

_I don't own any of the characters from LOCI. I'm merely borrowing them, all the other usual disclaimers apply as well._

**This Can't Be Happening**

**Late September, 1983 College Station, Texas**

For the fifth morning in a row, Amy found herself in the bathroom stall of the suite she shared with three other girls at Texas A&M University. Once again, she was violently sick to her stomach.

"Amy? Are you OK," her roommate Michelle asked.

Michelle Cho had been Amy's roommate since their freshman year, when they were thrown together at the random whim of a computer. The two girls found they rather liked each other and the arrangement, and had been roommates ever since. Now, they were starting their senior year together.

"Amy, unlock the door. I'm coming in."

Amy reached up behind her and slid the bolt back, allowing Michelle to pull open the door and look down at her. Michelle gently placed a cool, wet wash rag against the back of Amy's neck.

"This is the fifth day in a row you've been in here like this. You care to tell me what's going on?"

Michelle waited patiently as another wave of nausea overtook Amy and sent her once more retching into the toilet bowl. She rubbed Amy's back and waited for the worst to subside. She then handed Amy another wash rag for her face.

"Nothing is going on. I've got a stomach virus."

"Stomach virus my ass. What stomach virus only attacks in the morning? I swear, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were…." Michelle's voice trailed off and her eyes widened as she stared at Amy.

Amy met her look with a wide-eyed look of her own. "Oh, shit!" She started counting on her fingers, and began to shake. "No! No, no, no, no, NO! Oh my God," she yelled. "No," she wailed softly as she hung her head between her knees and began to cry.

Michelle sank to the floor and put her arms around Amy and pressed her cheek into her back. "Amy, are you sure?"

"It—it's a distinct possibility," Amy sobbed.

"How late are you?"

"Six and a half weeks. But, but I thought it was like two years ago, when we were all so stressed, and the doctor said it was not uncommon…." her voiced trailed away at the memory.

Amy, Michelle, and their two suite mates had all been extremely stressed over exams and a too-heavy course load, causing all of them to experience a semester of dysmenorrhea, or cessation of ovulation and menstruation, a protective mechanism by which the female body can ensure pregnancy would not occur in a hostile environment, such as an overly stressed out college student. Once exams had passed and all four girls had spent a quiet summer at home with their families, things had returned to normal.

But, two years ago, she was very stressed out. Two years ago, she and Rodger were not yet sexually active. Two years ago, she had not met Bobby Goren.

Amy noticed that Michelle had gotten up and left the stall, so she wiped her face one last time, flushed and left to follow her.

"Here," said Michelle, holding out a box to Amy. "I got this yesterday. I've been suspicious myself."

Amy took the box and stared down at it. It was a pregnancy test kit; the home test kind that you peed on and waited a few minutes. She looked back up at Michelle. Mutely, she opened the box and disappeared back into the stall. Amy emerged a minute later and gave the stick to Michelle and went into the dorm room to lie down.

"Move over," said Michelle, a few minutes later.

"Well," Amy asked.

"Yes," Michelle replied.

"It's bullshit!"

"No, it's a baby. You're pregnant," Michelle said, turning her head to look at her roommate.

A tear escaped from Amy's eye and rolled down towards her ear. Michelle reached over and brushed it away gently. She hurt for Amy; they had become more than just friends, more than just roommates. They were sisters; sharing in each other's joys and sorrows. As Michelle watched more tears flow from Amy's eyes, she started crying herself.

Michelle sat up and rubbed at her eyes. "Stop it, Amy! You're making me cry and I'm not the one who's pregnant."

Suddenly, Amy's eyes got wide and she sat up quickly. "What time is it?"

"What?"

"The time. What time is it," Amy demanded.

Michelle glanced over at the alarm clock on the desk. "It's almost 8. Why?"

"Oh, my God! NO! What am I going to say to him? I can't talk to him, Michelle! I just can't!" Amy grabbed Michelle by the shoulders and shook her as she stated emphatically, "Tell him I'm sick and I'll call him back later. Oh," she moaned as she flopped backwards onto the bed and covered her face with her arm.

"Calm down, Amy. Tell who, wha --OH! It's Thursday, isn't it? OK, ok, I'll answer the phone." Michelle hopped off the bed and paced the small open area of the dorm room. "Let's just both calm down and I'll handle it. It'll be all right, Amy. I'll take care of it."

Every Thursday at 8 am Texas time, Bobby called Amy from his office in Germany. It was their way of staying in touch in between letters. The time difference meant that Bobby could call Amy during his afternoon break and wake her up, something he had started doing several times a week while Amy 

was living with her parents in Germany. These phone calls had become treasured time together, but now Amy was terrified at the thought of hearing his voice.

The shrill ring of the phone on the wall shook them both. Michelle wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on the legs of her pajama pants, and with a glance at Amy, bravely reached over and answered the phone.

"Hello?" Michelle hoped and prayed her voice sounded calm.

"Hi, Michelle! It's Bobby. Is Amy there?"

"Oh, hello, Bobby. How are you?"

"Fine," Bobby answered, starting to feel skeptical about Michelle's tone of voice. "Is everything OK?"

"Yes, I mean, no. No, everything is not OK. Amy isn't feeling very well this morning." Michelle looked at Amy while she was talking. Amy nodded in encouragement and signaled with her hand for Michelle to keep going.

"What's wrong," Bobby asked, now getting worried.

"Oh, it's just a nasty stomach virus that's going around the dorm," she replied. Michelle crossed the fingers of her other hand and closed her eyes, praying that she sounded truthful. "It's really horrible stuff. I had it last week and it knocked me flat on my back for most of the week. We had hoped Amy wouldn't get it, but…."

"Sounds awful. Is she up to letting me talk to her? Please?"

"I don't know. Let me ask her. She was really bad sick just a little while ago. I don't know if she feels up to talking to anyone right now." Michelle continued looking at Amy, and covered the mouth piece with her hand. "Amy," she said gently, pretending she was standing next to her, "It's Bobby; he wants to know if you're up to talking to him. He feels really terrible about you being sick."

She paused for a moment, and Amy made what she hope sounded like a sick, mumbled response.

Michelle uncovered the phone and spoke to Bobby again. "I'm sorry Bobby, she really feels lousy right now and doesn't want to talk. I'll tell her you called, though." She listened for a minute, then hung up the phone and turned to look at Amy.

"Whew! You know you're going to have to tell him, Amy. He's the father, right?"

Amy nodded mutely, still lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"So, just exactly how did you end up in this situation? OK, I know how you got pregnant. What I want to know is how did you end up doing _that_? After all Rodger put you through, and the promise you made to yourself…..well, Bobby must be someone really special for you to have put yourself out there like that."

Amy looked at Michelle and blushed deep crimson red at the memory of their last weekend together.

"Oh, my," was all Michelle could say as she stared at her. "He really IS special. Care to share?"

"The Saturday before I left, Mom woke me up with breakfast in bed. It was my favorite breakfast and there was a rose on the tray and a note. I asked Mom if this meant we were moving again. She laughed and said no, that I was to eat up, get dressed and go downstairs. The note was unsigned and read, 'My favorite lady's favorite breakfast.' Naturally, this got my curiosity going, and I couldn't wait to get downstairs. Mom and Dad said they knew only part of what was going on and who had planned it all. I was to follow all these notes and clues around the area and Dad was to drive me. The car was a red convertible sports car that I had been dying to drive while I was there.

"Bobby had planned the whole thing! It was totally awesome! We ended up at the USO where we had first met, then Mom came and picked up Dad and I got to drive the car up into the mountains for a romantic picnic and…..well…..one thing led to another, and I guess I really showed him how just how much I appreciated all he had done for me….." her voice trailed away at the memory and she blushed again.

"Michelle, he had remembered all these little things about me that I had dropped in our numerous conversations. Things like roses being my favorite flower, so each clue had a red rose with it. He remembered that I wanted to take him on a picnic up in the mountains before I left, so that was where we went after I "found" him.

"I had gotten all excited one day when a red convertible sports car was parked next to mine after one of our dates; he rented that exact same type of car for my scavenger hunt date! Can you believe it?

"I've never had ANYONE pay that kind of close attention to me. Rodger could never remember that I love peaches and vanilla yogurt for breakfast, and I only mentioned it once to Bobby! Once! And he remembered!

"The whole summer he never pushed me for a kiss, or for anything more than a hug and holding hands. I told him about the whole Rodger and Kenneth fiasco at lunch, we'd been seeing each other about a month by then, and he sympathized with me not wanting to open myself up too much and setting myself up to be hurt really bad again. He respected me, Michelle. I've never been respected by a man before. I mean Rodger and I got along great, and we had very strong feelings for one another, but, Bobby…..Bobby was so different. You know? He GOT me."

Amy looked intently at Michelle.

"Wow! You really fell hard for him, didn't you," Michelle asked her softly.

Amy just stared at her. Finally her eyes got really big and she said softly, "I guess I did. What am I going to do now, Michelle? I've screwed everything up, totally and completely."


	6. The Murder

_Once again, all the usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 6 The Murder**

**July 15, 2008 Central Park, New York City**

She was found near the south entrance to the park, in the bushes near the gate. The sight of her made even the most seasoned police officer sick to his stomach. No one could recall seeing a murder that brutal, that gruesome in Central Park in recent memory.

It was obvious the body was a blonde female; beyond that was anyone's guess. It would be up to the Medical Examiner's Office to piece together her identity, to help them discover who she was so her family could be contacted.

Everyone who encountered this horrific case wanted to see justice served.

**July 17, 2008 Major Case Squad, One Police Plaza, New York City**

"Eames, my office please," ordered Captain Dan Ross.

Detective Alexandra Eames looked across at her desk and locked eyes with Detective Robert Goren, her long-time partner. He shrugged and went back to studying the case file open on his desk.

Eames pushed back from her desk, rose and walked into the Captain's office, wondering why he would only want to talk to one of them and not both.

"Close the door please," the captain said, sitting down at his desk.

Eames did as he requested and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"I need to you see this first," the captain said, passing a case file across the desk to her.

She quickly skimmed the first page, then looked back up at Ross in surprise. "The Central Park murder from 2 days ago? I thought that was a Jane Doe homicide? Why give it to us?"

"Keep reading. Look at what the ME's office sent over late yesterday."

"The body has been positively identified as Laura Wainwright." Eames looked up in shock. "THE Laura Wainwright?"

"Yes, the beautiful young socialite, wife of Adam Wainwright III, known as "Trey". The daughter - in - law of Amy Wainwright, owner of Wainwright Estates Winery and heir to the late billionaire industrialist Adam Wainwright. THAT Laura Wainwright. Now you know why the case was thrown to us after the ID was made."

"I'm sure. So, why talk to me without Bobby around?"

"Keep looking. The researchers included pictures of Laura from before she was attacked."

Eames flipped a few more pages in the file, then sat down in the nearest chair with a thud. She was holding one of the photos in her hand, one that showed Laura with her husband Trey at a recent 

gallery opening. "Oh, my God! The young man in this picture…..he looks almost exactly like…" Her voice trailed off and she moved her head to the left, indicating her partner sitting out in the bullpen.

Ross nodded in agreement. "That's why I called you in here. The Chief of Detectives wants you and Goren on the case, as does the DA, the Mayor and the Governor. Once word of the ID gets out, so will all of the New York big-money social scene."

"But, we can't. Conflict of interest."

"We don't know that for sure; it could just be coincidence," Ross states. "For now, you two take the case. But, play it by the book. I don't want anything to mess up getting a conviction on the bastard who did this to that young woman. Let me see the file again."

Eames hands him the file and watches him as he thumbs quickly through it.

"Good. There's another picture of Laura in here; one without her husband. I'll keep this one. Watch your partner closely, and don't hesitate to call me if there's a problem."

"I will, Captain. Thank you for the heads up."

"Just close it quickly and keep me posted. That'll be all, Detective," said Captain Ross.

Eames walked out of the Captain's office and sat down at her desk. She quietly read all of the case file this time, pausing to take notes. She became aware of Bobby watching her, but said nothing and continued to study the case file.

"Uh, Eames? You got something you want to share with me," Bobby asked her as he indicated the case file with a wave of his hand.

Eames looked up at him. "It's the Central Park murder. They've identified the Jane Doe and the Chief of D's and the Mayor's offices want us on the case. It's pretty gruesome. Are you sure you want to see?" Bobby had his hand stuck out for the file before she finished talking.

"Of course I want to see. This case has been all over the news the last several days. I've been jealous of Homicide…" Bobby's voice trailed off as he began to scan the horrible photos. "This-this is clearly rage," he stammered, looking up at her with horror and pain in his eyes. "These slashes here… and these marks here…." He indicated the photos. "I, I've got to get down to the morgue."

Bobby quickly closed the file, scooping it up along with his leather binder, grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator. He was single-minded now, focused on this case, this woman, determined to see justice done.

_There he goes, like a blood hound on a scent_, Eames thought, as she grabbed her own things and hurried after him.

They spent several hours in the morgue. Bobby poured over the autopsy report, confirming his suspicions and asking myriad questions of Elizabeth Rodgers, the Medical Examiner. He looked at and studied every photograph, every x-ray, every mark on her body; pored over the toxicology report and read every note Dr. Rodgers had taken during the course of her investigation. He was piecing together a picture of the crime scene in his head, profiling the beast who could do such damage to a woman.

It sickened him inside to see such a beautiful young person in such a horrid state. Whoever had done this to her had been extremely angry. Her face had been beaten to a pulp, multiple stab wounds covered her torso, her legs and arms appeared to have been beaten repeatedly with a blunt object. Unknowingly, the perpetrator of this horrendous crime had merely served to fuel the passion for justice inside the officer, and the Detective Goren who left the morgue was even more determined and more focus than the one who went in.

As they stepped out of the morgue, Eames' cell phone rang. "Eames." She listened for a moment then thanked the caller and turned towards Goren. "Laura's parents are on their way here to identify and claim her body. Should we talk to them now?"

"Let's wait. What's in that other room will be tough enough for them to handle without having to deal with our questions," he replied.

Mr. and Mrs. Edwards were already in the lobby of the Medical Examiner's building when Goren and Eames stepped off the elevator. It was hard to avoid them, as they made a bee line for the two detectives.

"Can you tell us anything? Is that our daughter in there," a distraught Mrs. Edwards asked them.

"Now, Leslie, these people are not medical examiners, they can't answer that for us. Come, sit down. Dr. Rodgers will be here shortly," Mr. Edwards said quietly, as he led his upset wife back to the chairs lining the wall in the waiting area.

Eames made her way to the door, but was stopped half-way by Bobby's hand on her shoulder. She could tell by the look on his face and the way he shifted his feet that they would not be leaving here without first talking to the Edwards.

She approached the couple carefully, pulling out her badge as she addressed them. "I'm Detective Eames and this is my partner, Detective Goren," she began, indicating Bobby with her hand. "We're with the Major Case Squad, and we've been here investigating your daughter's murder."

Mrs. Edwards gasped loudly and began to weep.

"Yes, the victim has been identified as your daughter. I'm terribly sorry for your loss," said Bobby softly. "Would you mind us asking you just a few quick questions? They'll be easy ones, I promise. We'll save the harder ones for later," he smiled tenderly at them.

"I'll answer a few questions for you, Detective Goren," answered Dennis Edwards. "I don't think my wife will be much help right now."

"I understand. News like this is very hard to take." Bobby sat down near the couple and opened his binder.

"What was your daughter doing in that section of the park? I believe the police report said the bo – she was wearing running clothes. Does – did she run regularly in the park?"

"Yes," Edwards nodded. "Ever since the baby was born, Laura had been running every other day to get back in shape. She was training for the marathon."

"What time did she prefer to run?"

"She usually left at 5:30 on the mornings she ran, and would be gone several hours. I've gone with her a couple of times recently, and she would be in that area by 6:30."

Bobby was taking notes, and he put a star by the time her father indicated, and glanced up at Eames. She shook her head slightly.

"Well, I think that's enough for now. You've given us a lot to go on. Thank you for your help, Mr. Edwards." Bobby stood and shook the man's hand, then leaned towards his wife. "Again, Mrs. Edwards, I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

"Thank you for your time," said Eames. "Here's our card. We'll be in touch later."

As the detectives rode back up in the elevator, Goren flipped through the police report, comparing that with the notes he took while speaking with the Edwards. "Mr. Edwards said Laura usually got to the south entrance by 6:30 am. Her body was found around 9 am…somebody knew she would be there at that time, had been watching her for a while. This was no random act, it was deliberate. Someone planned this, Eames."

"Now all we have to do is figure out why," she replied grimly.


	7. Amy's Choice

_All the usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 7 – Amy's Choice**

"Well, you are definitely pregnant," Dr. Watkins told Amy. "From the sonogram it appears to be a healthy, intrauterine pregnancy, about 9 weeks along, placenta looks good….." He flipped through the file in front of him and continued, "Lab work looks great. All in all, you should do just fine, Amy." The kindly older man looked up at her and smiled. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Amy looked at him and said hesitantly, "I-I'm not sure I want to keep this baby yet. What's the longest I can wait before getting an abortion?"

"Amy, I'm not a big fan of abortions, but if that's what you really want to do, they can be safely done up until week 12. After that, it becomes harder for you and for the baby."

Amy thought for a minute and then said, "OK, thank you, Dr. Watkins. I'll let you know something in a few days."

Dr. Watkins escorted Amy out the door of his office and down to the nurses' alcove, where he left her in the capable hands of Abby Ryan. "I need to see her back in 6 weeks, please, Abby," said Dr. Watkins. He gave Amy's arm a squeeze, then turned and walked back down the hall.

"Here are your prenatal vitamin samples and a prescription for a 3 month supply," said Nurse Ryan, handing Amy a small paper bag and a blue sheet of paper. "This card has your next appointment on it as well as my direct phone number. If you have any questions at all, you call me."

She looked at Amy and saw the tears welling up in her eyes. "Shay, child! It'll be all right." She wrapped Amy in a big hug and held her for a moment, then pulled back and looked into her eyes. "Trust me, you'll be fine."

Amy stepped out into the waiting room and saw Michelle. Michelle had graciously driven her to this appointment, telling Amy that she would stand by her side through the whole pregnancy if Amy needed her to.

"Amy," Michelle asked.

"Can we go back to the dorm, please," Amy said.

Back at the dorm, Michelle asked Amy what the doctor said.

"He said it's a normal pregnancy, I'm healthy and everything will be fine. He also said I have until week 12 to get an abortion." Amy let her last comment hang in the air.

Michelle stared at her. "You're kidding me, right? An abortion? _You?_ You are the last person I expected to hear say that. You _love_ kids. Why would you want to put yourself through that? Why not just tell Bobby and see what happens?"

"I can't. It would ruin everything for him," Amy sobbed.

"You don't know that. Tell him."

"Michelle, he's CID. A cop. A military cop. A very busy military cop. He's gone all the time solving cases. Plus, I don't want to be an Army wife. AND, I don't know that I want to be married to him. Or, that he would want to be married to me. I messed up my life, I can't mess up his."

Michelle walked over to Amy and gave her a hug. "Then at least call and tell your parents. They need to know they're going to be grandparents."

Amy's parents were not thrilled at the news of her pregnancy. After several long hours of arguing and yelling back and forth at each other, they came to tenuous terms. Against their better judgement, her parents agreed not to say anything, to keep her pregnancy a secret. They would leave it up to Amy to tell Bobby. They trusted her, but did counsel her to strongly consider having the baby. Adoption would be okay with them, but due to their strong religious beliefs abortion was not an option.

Due to the potential embarrassment for AJ if word got around the military base that the Commanding Officer's daughter was pregnant out of wedlock, the decision was made for Amy not to visit Germany while her father was still stationed there. Sadly, Amy agreed, knowing it was for the best. AJ & Elizabeth would visit Amy at her grandparents' home over Christmas.

The next phone call Amy made was to her grandparents. Grandpa AJ had always been her "go to guy" growing up, the one person she could always talk to about anything. He and her Grandma A had provided Amy with the stability she needed during all the moves her father's military career had put them through. She trusted his advice, and sought it out whenever the world seemed to close in on her. He had been there for her when Rodger betrayed her and Amy knew he'd be there for her now.

As Amy dialed the phone, she hoped and prayed that her Grandpa AJ would take the news well. Her grandfather's approval meant everything to her, and she feared his disappointment would be her undoing.

AJ, Senior took the news that he was going to be a great-grandfather better than Amy expected. Amy's grandfather would not hear of her having an abortion or giving the baby up for adoption, insisting that he would personally raise the child to keep that from happening. He and Amelia ultimately decided that they would move to College Station and buy a house. Amy would move in with them and Michelle would be welcome to live there, as well. This would provide Amy with the privacy and comfort she would need during her pregnancy. While they were not pleased with Amy's situation, they knew she would need their support and help.

Amy hung up the phone and sighed. "Michelle, my grandparents are buying a house and moving down here until the baby is born. Can you believe it? I'm outnumbered; I guess I have no choice but to keep the baby."

Michelle looked at her seriously. Amy knew what was coming next, but waited for Michelle to ask her anyway. "Amy. You ARE going to tell Bobby, aren't you? He needs to know. He DESERVES to know. None of us will think less of you if you don't, but please know that I think you are making a terrible mistake NOT telling him."

"I know. I just don't think I can go through with it. It's so hard for me to trust men, after what Rodger put me through. I want to think the best of Bobby, but…..

"But, what?"

"Well, we never really talked about what our plans were after the summer. We planned the phone calls and writing, but that was about it. We never really talked about our future, or about us in the future. I told him I might be going back for Christmas, but that was nothing definite, because Mom and Dad weren't sure what their plans were….."

"You're really scared to tell him, aren't you," Michelle asked her.

Amy just nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again.

Michelle hugged her tightly. "Aw baby, it'll be all right. You have a whole week to figure out what you want to say to him. It'll be fine." Michelle stroked her best friend's hair, and held her while she cried.

When next Thursday finally came, Amy took the initiative and called Bobby first, much to his surprise and delight.

"You know," said Amy. "There is one thing we didn't talk about before I left."

"Oh, really? We were kind of, um, occupied that last day," Bobby replied mischievously. "What were you thinking about in particular?"

"Where do we go from here," Amy said. "Are we in a long-term, committed relationship, or was this summer just a casual fling?"

"Why are you asking, Amy?" Bobby could feel the fear and panic begin to well up inside him as he spoke.

"Because I don't think I want a long-distance relationship. It's just too hard. I want to be able to go out and do things with you and you're not here. I want to be able to go out with other guys if I'm interested and not feel guilty about you and me. I mean, I don't expect you to sit around waiting for Thursday so we can talk. I would think you would be interested in going out and doing things, even dating….."

Bobby got very quiet on his end of the line. This was NOT what he was expecting, but he understood where she was coming from. Even so, the thought that she would want them to break off their relationship, after what they'd been through over the summer, came as a shock to him and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"You're right; I'm not there. I wish things were different and I could be there," he said emphatically. "I hate not being able to be with you, to see you, to hold you….After everything you told me over the summer, it sounds like it would be fun dating you at A&M. I can ask you not to date other people, tell you that I don't want to end our relationship, but unless you really want it, too…." Bobby let his voice trail off, hoping Amy would hear the emotion in it.

Amy DID hear the emotion in Bobby's voice, and it cut her to the core. _Damn him for caring about me so much,_ she thought. _Please don't make this any harder than it has to be._

"Oh, Bobby, I know this isn't how either one of us thought it would be; I wish things were different, too. I wish you could be here, but you can't. I just can't sit around waiting for the phone to ring and going to class."

Amy took a deep breath and continued on before Bobby could stop her. "I don't want to be a soldier's wife. I don't want to move every two or three years. I hated it growing up and I don't want that kind of life for my kids."

Her volume rose as she continued on; all the hurt and emotion of growing up in the military had finally broken loose and she was crying now as she poured her heart out to Bobby. "I don't want to live in fear that the next person at my front door is there to tell me that my husband has been injured, or captured, or worse, killed, in some war zone half a world away."

"Amy, don't do this," Bobby begged her softly, tears filling his eyes, his heart hurting for her. More than anything, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, dry her tears, and tell her things would be all right, that they would be all right. But he couldn't, not because of the distance between them, but because he knew that everything she said was true.

"What if your next assignment takes you some place where you can't call or write me regularly," Amy asked him emotionally. "Or, or, some place where I can't come visit you, or even live with you if we were to get married? What kind of life is that?" Amy sobbed quietly now, pausing before she continued. Bobby said nothing, afraid to set her off again.

"I've had a lot of time to think about this, Bobby," Amy said, her voice a lot quieter now. "I knew I would hurt you having to talk to you about it. A long-distance relationship wouldn't be fair to either one of us; there's no guarantee that you and I would ever work out, so….I'm sorry."

Bobby _had_ made that guarantee to himself, but it was now obvious that Amy hadn't. "Amy, I don't think anything I say or do will be able to change your mind," he said sadly. "May I still call you next Thursday, just to say hi and check on you?"

"OK," Amy replied. "You can check on me next week, as a friend."

Bobby cringed. "Yeah, Amy, as a friend. Listen, I have to go now, I had a busy day today. Heavy caseload and the Captain wants me to get caught up with my paperwork. I'll talk to you next week. Will you be all right?"

"I will. Goodbye, Bobby," said Amy slowly, hating that it sounded so final.

"'Bye, Amy…" said Bobby. He had heard the finality in her voice, and as he hung up the phone, his heart sank. To hell with paperwork, he thought to himself. What I need is a walk.

He grabbed his overcoat and headed for the door. A walk and a smoke would clear his head. It always had before.

Amy hung the phone back up on its wall cradle, and sank slowly down to the floor. Hot wet tears ran silently down her cheeks and she lowered her head to her knees. Her heart hurt. Hurt worse than she had expected. The ending of that phone call had seemed so final, more final than she had expected, and she realized that she had cared for Bobby more than she had previously admitted to herself.

Was she making a mistake, not telling him about her pregnancy? She couldn't go back now; she wouldn't let herself go back and try to undo the damage she had just done to him, and to herself. Because, she had to admit, she had fallen in love with Bobby Goren; fallen in love with him and didn't even realize it until now.

_Going back and trying to undo it would mess everything up, _she toldherself._ He doesn't need to be saddled with a wife and a child right now, not at our age. We're too young. We'd just mess everything up. It really is better this way._

But Amy's heart refused to believe it, and she sat on the floor and wept.


	8. The Investigation Continues

_As always, the usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 8 The Investigation Continues**

Goren and Eames were at their desks at MCS early the next day when Detective Mike Logan and his partner, Detective Megan Wheeler walked in.

"Hey, Goren," called out Logan. "I hear ya'll caught the Wainwright case. Pretty high profile stuff. You know who did it yet?"

Eames caught the look of surprise on Goren's face and answered quickly answered, "No, Logan, not yet. You got any leads for us?"

Logan also noticed the surprised look on Goren's face and exchanged a glance with his partner before answering Eames. "No, but you'll be the first to know if we do."

Eames looked across her desk to her partner, and noticed his pale face and stunned expression.

"Bobby? You okay," she asked.

Bobby didn't answer her, but took the case file off her desk and opened it to the first page. He began to read the file again, but very slowly this time, and out loud, as though hearing what he was reading would help him better understand the information. "Victim, Laura Marie Wainwright, nee Edwards, age 24; husband is Adam Jefferson Wainwright, III, "Trey" also age 24. Parents are Leslie and Dennis Edwards. One son, Hudson Edward Wainwright, 15 months. Assistant manager of the Wainwright Public Trust and the Wainwright Gallery……." Bobby's voice trailed off and he stared off into space, his chin resting in his right hand.

Alex watched her partner carefully. He was hard to read when he got like this and right now she was concerned about what he was thinking. Robert Goren was never one to readily share anything about his private life to much of anyone, not even his partner, Alex. She found out more about him from what he told witnesses he was questioning or suspects he was interrogating than from what he voluntarily told her directly. If she was going to get him to talk, she would have to proceed carefully.

"Something wrong, Bobby," she asked softly.

Bobby turned and looked at his partner; the same far-away look in his eyes. "I, I knew a Wainwright once, a, a long time ago. Hearing Logan say that name brought back memories I thought I'd forgotten." He shook his head to clear it and continued, "That's a story for another day. Let's get back to work. I'm curious as to why Laura's parents were at the ME's office today to ID her body and not her husband."

"I was wondering the same thing, too," responded Eames. She stood up and grabbed her purse. "I'm driving."

Bobby rose from his desk and rolled his eyes. Grabbing his binder with the case file in it and pulling on his coat, he followed his partner to the elevator.

**Wainwright Home, Upper East Side, Manhattan**

As Eames pulled smoothly into a rare available parking spot in front of the majestic looking brownstone, Goren's phone rang. He quickly put it to his ear. "Goren," he snapped.

His brow furrowed as he said, "Yes, this is Detective Robert Goren of the Major Case Squad." He turned toward Eames and shrugged, his eyes curious as he listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line.

Eames watched his expression morph into one of anger, then shock and finally in to resigned frustration as he said, "Okay." He sighed and looked at Eames. "I can be there in 15 minutes. Thank you." He listened a bit longer and then hung up the phone.

"Uh, Eames, I'm sorry. Tha -- that was Manhattan General," Bobby stuttered. "It seems that Frank, well, Frank, um…I have to go. Can you handle this by yourself?" He looked down at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, unable to look her in the eyes.

Eames looked at him with sympathy and understanding in her eyes. "It's ok, Bobby. You go on ahead and take care of Frank. I can handle things here. If you need me, please call."

Bobby looked relieved as he thanked his partner, wondering again what he had done to be hooked up with such a wonderful human being as Alexandra Eames. She never questioned his actions unless it was absolutely necessary, and she understood intimately how important it was for him to take care of his family.

Eames stood on the street in front of the steps to the Wainwright home and watched her partner drive off. "Please let Frank be OK," she prayed quickly, before turning and walking up the steps.

The housekeeper who greeted Detective Eames at the door was very cordial towards her, and invited her in after she introduced herself.

"I'm Mrs. Mitchell, the housekeeper," the woman said. "Oh, it's just downright dreadful what happened to Miss Laura," she said in her soft Southern drawl, as she led Alex into the sitting room. "Miss Amy is just so upset. I don't know if she'll speak to you, but I'll go ask her. You just sit right here and make yourself comfortable while I go fetch her."

Eames smiled at the kindly older woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Mitchell."

The woman who entered the sitting room with Mrs. Mitchell a few minutes later was tall and beautiful. Her raven hair was in a stylish cut and her blue eyes were full of sadness and red from crying, but she managed to smile warmly at Detective Eames and extended her hand in welcome. "Hello, Detective. I'm Amy Wainwright. I understand you wanted to speak with me about my daughter-in-law, Laura?"

"Detective Alexandra Eames, with the Major Case Squad," Eames replied as she stood and returned Amy's handshake. " I was wondering why Laura's parents came down to the Medical Examiner's office this morning to identify her body and not her husband. Is there some sort of marital trouble we should be aware of?"

Amy sat on the sofa opposite the chair Alex had chosen and studied the detective carefully. She liked the no-nonsense demeanor and quiet confidence the petite woman exuded and was thankful that the department had sent one of its best detectives to investigate her daughter-in-law's murder.

"Oh, no, Detective. Nothing like that at all," Amy said easily. "My son is out of the country right now. He's in France doing business for the family's winery. He's coming back this evening. I'll try to answer any questions you may have as best I can."

Alex instantly liked Amy Wainwright and hated that she might have to upset her with the next several questions. As gently as she could, she asked, "Did your daughter-in-law have any enemies that you are aware of? Anyone who might want to kill her or see her dead?"

"No," Amy answered emphatically. "Everyone loved Laura. She was bright, intelligent, incredibly nice and extremely friendly. If anything, she was too friendly. Laura was very compassionate and loving. In addition to her work with the Gallery, she was the driving force behind the Wainwright Public Trust, and my parents were grooming her to take over running the entire trust in the next several years. Dad is ready to retire full time to his Estate up in Utica."

"What about your son, Adam," Eames asked her next. "Would he have any enemies that would want to get to him by hurting Laura?"

At this question, Amy teared up. "I'm sorry, Detective. It's just that my son loves his wife so much, the thought of him having to come home to all this is very upsetting to me." She wiped her eyes, then took a deep breath and composed herself before continuing. "I can't think of anyone off the top of my head that would have it in for Trey in that way. I'm afraid that's one question I can't answer," she said sadly.

"Who filed the missing person's report?" Eames asked.

"I was watching Hudson that morning while Laura went running, and when she didn't come home, I called the police and filed the report," Amy answered. " I couldn't understand why it took so long to make the identification until I spoke with Dennis yesterday. They told him there were several missing person's reports filed for young blonde females; that, and the condition her body was found in…." she began crying once more and took a minute to regain her composure.

"So, you were here Tuesday morning," Eames asked her.

"Yes," Amy responded. "Mrs. Mitchell was off on Tuesday, and the nanny doesn't come until 8. Trey and Laura like to take care of Hudson before they go to work in the mornings."

"What about your husband? Where was he Tuesday morning?"

Amy seemed to bristle slightly at that particular question, but quickly regained her composure and faced Alex head on. "There is no husband, Detective. The only Mr. Wainwrights around here are my son and my father."

Eames said nothing, but continued to look directly at Amy, a technique her partner employed quite successfully to get witnesses and suspects to talk. She was not disappointed, as Amy sighed and continued.

"I decided not to tell the baby's father," Amy went on. "Our situation was very difficult, and being saddled with a wife and a child would have ruined his successful career. My family was understandably disappointed at first, but has been very supportive. My father and grandfather both took it upon themselves to be positive male influences in my son's life. I'm sorry if I sound rude, but I'm very sensitive about that subject."

"I understand; I would be too in your situation. I was the surrogate mother for my sister and her husband, and I know what it's like to have your decisions questioned and even frowned upon by others who think they know what's best for you," Alex gave Amy a small, sympathetic smile.

Eames stood and moved around the sitting room. "You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Wainwright. However, I thought this was Trey and Laura's home?"

"It is. We also own the two homes on either side. The three are connected by a hallway in the back that my grandfather had put in many years ago. My parents live in the one on my right, I live here in the middle, and Trey lives in the one on my left. We all use the same address."

"Would it be possible for me to see where Laura and Trey live? There may be something there that could help in the investigation."

"Of course," said Amy warmly. "I'll do anything you need to help you catch her killer."

As Amy led her out of the sitting room, Alex's eyes landed on a small round table displaying an artful arrangement of beautifully framed photographs. She reached down and picked up one of the photos. "Is this you," she asked, pointing to one of the women in the picture.

"Yes," Amy smiled at the photo. "That was taken in Germany 25 years ago, on my last day of summer vacation. Those are my parents," she pointed at an elegant couple on one end of the smiling group, "and those are three good friends of mine. I've lost touch with those friends in the years since then," she said wistfully.

Alex held the photo up for closer inspection. In the picture, Amy was standing next to a handsome young man who had his arm protectively around her waist, and was obviously her boyfriend at the time. "If I may be so bold, is this Trey's father with you in the picture," Eames asked uncertainly.

Amy was stunned by Alex's boldness, but answered her anyway. "Yes, he is Detective," she answered, stressing the last word so as to politely but firmly remind Eames of her place. She reached out and took the picture from Alex and returned it to its proper place on the table.

"You wanted to see where Trey and Laura lived?" Amy gestured towards the hall and motioned for Eames to precede her.

_Well,_ thought Eames. _This IS a touchy subject. I wonder who that is in that picture_.


	9. The Suspect

_As always, the usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 9 The Suspect**

Eames looked up from her desk when Goren entered the squad room the next morning. He was bearing 2 cups of Starbucks coffee and wearing an apologetic face.

"I'm so sorry I had to run out on you like that yesterday," he said as he set the steaming cup in front of her.

"Apology accepted," Eames smiled at him. She took a careful sip of the hot liquid and sighed as she realized it was her favorite latte. "mmmmmm….apology _really_ accepted."

Goren smiled as he watched her enjoy the coffee. He took off his coat, hung it on the rack behind her and moved around their desks. Pulling out his chair, he sat down and opened his binder.

"Care to fill me in on what you learned after I left," he asked.

Eames decided it would be best not to ask about Frank at this time; her partner was in a fairly good mood, and she wanted to take advantage of it and move forward with this case. "Well, Ms.Wainwright filed the missing person's report. It seems that Laura's husband has been out of the country on business. He got in late last night, so he should be available to come in for an interview. Ms. Wainwright was watching Laura's son while she went running in the park that morning, and when she wasn't back by 9, Ms. Wainwright became worried and called the police."

Bobby was busy scribbling notes in his binder and didn't look up as he asked his next question. "What about phone calls and financial records? Have we learned anything there?"

"Phone calls show normal activity. All the calls she made were to places you'd expect: Overseas, presumably to her husband; the office where she works; her parents; her girlfriends; the nanny; several stores, and the bank. Nothing strange or unusual. Her credit card statements seem OK, too. Nothing popped out at me there." She handed over the phone records and credit card statements before he could even ask.

"I did notice something I wanted to ask Mr. Wainwright about when he comes in later today. Both Laura and Trey have life insurance policies in the amount of 5 million dollars."

At this information, Goren looked up and whistled. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. "What about the husband's financials? Any odd bank transactions or credit card charges?"

"No, I haven't seen anything there yet. I just started on those when you walked in."

The two spent the next hour poring over Trey Wainwright's phone records, bank records and credit card statements. Again, nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at either one of them.

"This case is very puzzling," Goren finally said. "Neither one seems to have any reason to want the other one dead, yet here we are with Laura's violently murdered body in lying in the morgue, and all of Manhattan demanding her killer's head on a platter."

"I'll call down to the morgue and see if Rodgers has found anything else," Eames said. "Why don't you call the labs and see if they have any results for us yet?"

Eames was just finishing up with the ME when her partner suddenly sat up straight and looked at her excitedly. "You did? What else? That's great! Can you send all of those reports up here right away? Thank you."

Eames looked quizzically at Goren.

"The lab found traces of chlorine on her clothes. The kind used for swimming pools. They also got a hit off AIFIS on the fingerprints. We might be able to wrap this case up by the end of today."

"Well, that is good news," replied Eames. She approached her next question cautiously; unsure if this was the right time. "While we're waiting for the reports to get here, can I ask you a question?" When he didn't respond, but merely looked at her, she pressed on. "How is Frank? We never caught back up with each other yesterday, and I've been meaning to ask you."

Goren sighed and ran his hand through his graying curls. "Frank is Frank. He got himself beat up pretty bad in a bar fight night before last. He was close to death when they found him. The doctors say he'll be fine, but he's going to have a long hard recovery. His spleen and liver were bruised, 6 ribs were broken, his left hand was smashed……" Goren's voice trailed off, and then he swallowed hard and continued.

"His legs were badly scraped and bruised, but nothing broken. He's in ICU right now. They had him in exploratory surgery when I got there. They were checking for internal bleeding and trying to determine if he would need to have his spleen removed. The spleen and liver should heal and everything else looked okay….

"No one knows how long he'll be in the hospital this time. His blood alcohol level was really high. They were almost not able to do the surgery because of it, but he kept showing signs of internal bleeding….it was his spleen, but they were able to clamp that off and stitch the vessel……."

He was looking down at his desk with a pained expression on his face. When he looked back up at her, there were tears in his eyes. "I can't keep doing this, Eames. I can't keep rescuing him if he's not going to do his part…."

Eames looked at him understandingly. "But you can't NOT rescue him, either, Bobby. That's not you. Your family means too much to you."

Once again, Bobby found himself utterly amazed at his partner's insight and understanding of his situation. How had he gone for so long without realizing that about her? "Thank you," he said to her.

"For what," she asked him, a little confused

"For being so understanding about things. Things with me and my family, I mean. I really appreciate it."

Eames was caught off-guard by his remark and didn't know what to say. She gave him a feeble half-smile and looked down at the desk. Goren watched her for a minute more, then he, too, looked back down at the notes on his desk.

"Bobby," Alex said softly.

"Huh?" He didn't look up, but kept reading his notes.

"Bobby," Alex said, a little more forcefully this time.

When Bobby looked up at her, Alex continued. "Bobby, have you told Captain Ross about Frank? Do you need time off this afternoon to go to the hospital?"

"I called him from the hospital yesterday. He said I could take all the time I need, but there's not much I can do, really. Frank is in good hands and just needs time to heal. I do want to go by this afternoon during visiting hours, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind, Bobby. I'll even go with you if you want me to," Alex told him.

Before Bobby could answer her, a technician from the lab approached them. He was carrying a manila envelope. "Detective Goren," the young man asked Bobby. When Bobby looked up, the man handed him the envelope. "These are the lab results you requested."

"Thank you," Bobby said, taking the folder from him and looking over at Eames. "Well, let's see what these can tell us," he said, pulling the papers out of the envelope and placing them on the desk.

"This is interesting." Bobby indicated the sheet on top with a wave of his hand. "The blood results show two blood types present; one is the victim's, and the other is the assailant's. The assailant is Type O."

He flipped to the next page. Eames moved around to his side of the desk to look over his shoulder. "The victim's blood work is all normal; tox screen is negative except for birth control pills, nothing unusual there. Here's something interesting; the other blood sample, the one belonging to the assailant, popped positive for cocaine and alcohol." He handed the page to Alex.

"Cocaine and alcohol that early in the morning? Must be a hard-core user. Y ou said something about AIFIS," Eames asked him.

"Yeah, I've got it right here. James Murphy, 27, white male, sexual assault, attempted rape, and rape. Five years ago." He looked up at Eames. "There's a restraining order on his rap sheet from 7 years ago. It was filed by Laura Edwards."

"The victim," Eames said stunned. "I think we need to pay Mr. Murphy a visit. Don't you?"


	10. Who Hired You?

You know the rules, have to make my disclaimers; all the usual ones apply.

**Wainwright Home, Sunday morning**

She awoke to the feel of a small warm hand on her cheek. Opening her eyes she saw the angelic face of her precious little Hudson sleeping soundly in her bed next to her. As her eyes focused farther away, she saw another special angelic face in her bed, her son Trey, who was watching them both with a smile on his tired face.

"He's finally asleep," Trey whispered. "Some night, huh?"

Amy nodded at him and carefully slid out of the bed. She motioned for Trey to follow her into the bathroom. Trey quietly closed the door behind them, and Amy slumped into his arms. He lowered them both to the floor, where they sat in silence for a time.

"Is it going to be like this every night," Trey wondered.

"I don't know," Amy answered him honestly. "He really misses her. How do you explain to a 15-month old that his Mommy is never coming back? He just got the hang of her leaving and coming back without fussing, and now this. Poor kid."

"Yeah. At least he's keeping me busy right now," Trey commented sadly, tears welling up in his large, dark brown eyes. "I miss her so much, Mom." He fell into Amy's arms, his broad shoulders heaving.

**Major Case Squad Room, Monday morning**

This time it was Eames who brought coffee to Goren. As she placed the cup in front of him, he looked up at her and smiled. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

Well, this is a change, Alex thought. He's really trying. "You're welcome," she found herself saying to him. She gave him a small smile and moved to sit at her desk, aware he was watching her carefully.

"What," she said, with a confused smile.

"It's my favorite," Bobby told her. "I'm slowly starting to realize how much we know about each other, and how much I'm grateful for that. Can't I say thank you?"

"Okay," Eames said uncertainly, slowly lowering herself down in her chair. "Thank you, I guess."

Bobby smiled broadly at her, again catching her off guard. "Okay, then. Let's get to work."

Eames shuffled the papers in front of her, finally pulling one out of the stack and studying it for a moment before she spoke. "Well, we didn't find Murphy at his home Friday. Any word from the unis watching his house over the weekend?"

Goren looked down at the pink slips on his desk. "No, no sign of him at his home."

"Rodgers' report said there was chlorine on his clothes, right," Eames asked, looking directly at Bobby. "Have we checked Murphy's work history yet? Maybe he works for a pool service, or a health club? Somewhere where he would be around chlorine." She started shuffling papers again.

Goren got up and moved around to her side of the desk and took some of the papers. Together they hunted through the papers until….

"Aha," Eames cried victoriously. "Murphy's last job listing is at Perfect Pools, a pool installation and service company. He is the service technician for several hotels and gyms in Manhattan."

"That would give him access to pool chlorine, plus heavy tools. Laura was bludgeoned several times with a heavy object," Goren reached his long arm across to his desk and grabbed the coroner's report. "Here, look," he showed Eames a portion of the report.

"'Some of the wounds appear to have been made by a large monkey wrench,'" Eames read from the report. "Well, it looks like we're headed to Perfect Pools."

**Perfect Pools, Houston Street**

Goren and Eames entered the store and approached the man sitting at the desk behind the counter. Both detectives flashed their badges at the man.

"I'm Detective Goren; this is my partner, Detective Eames. We're looking for James Murphy," Goren said, leaning on the counter as he pocketed his badge. "Is he here?"

The man approached the counter. "I'm James Murphy," he said with a hint of a soft Irish brogue in his voice.

Eames looked quickly at Goren then back at Mr. Murphy. "You can't be Mr. Murphy," she said.

"I am Mr. James Murphy," the man behind the counter insisted.

"No, see, the James Murphy we're looking for is 25 years old. You're not him," Eames insisted.

"Oh, you need my son, Jimmy," Mr. Murphy said with sudden understanding. "He's not here right now."

"We really need to talk to him," Bobby said. "Do you know where we can find him?"

"Why? Is he in some kind of trouble again?"

"We need to talk to him about a murder investigation," said Eames.

"You think he murdered that Wainwright girl," Mr. Murphy stated with a sigh. "I'm not surprised. I'm sure you already know about the restraining order her family had out on him."

Mr. Murphy continued when the two detectives nodded. "He's been mad at her ever since he came back and found out she was married."

"Came back," asked Goren confused. "Where's he been?"

"He's been in California these last 5 years. Just came back 6 months ago. It was a condition of the agreement we had with the Edwards. Jimmy would go live with his grandparents out in California and the Edwards would only file a restraining order and not press charges. He promised me he would be able to leave her alone if I let him come back."

Mr. Murphy reached under the counter and pulled out a black binder. He flipped it open and thumbed through several pages. "Let's see…..Monday….." He looked at his watch. "10 am….here it is. The Hilton Hotel in Times Square, West 42nd Street. Jimmy should be there doing a servicing and cleaning of their pool."

"May I see that, please," Goren asked Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy turned the log book around to face Goren. Goren opened his binder and began taking notes on Jimmy's whereabouts on Tuesday morning.

"Would you happen to know where James was this weekend," Eames asked Mr. Murphy.

"No. He has his own place now," Mr. Murphy answered her. I have to start trusting him sometime, don't I?"

Eames smiled at the man. Goren turned the log book back around to face Mr. Murphy just then and looked up at the two of them. "I got what I needed. You ready to go," he asked Eames.

"Yes," she told Bobby. "Thank you, Mr. Murphy."

Goren and Eames arrived at the Hilton Hotel and were escorted to the pool area by the concierge. Jimmy Murphy was nowhere to be found, but banging and cursing could be heard coming from an open doorway across the pool from the two detectives.

Goren winced and grinned at Eames as he made his way around the pool towards the open door. He entered to find a young man doubled over and holding tightly to one hand. "Damn, that hurts," the young man yelled.

"Here, let me see," said Goren.

Reluctantly, Jimmy held out his hand and Goren carefully took it and looked it over intensely. "Looks like you only need ice," he said, letting go of Murphy's hand.

"Thanks," Jimmy said sheepishly. "Hammer."

"Ouch," said Eames coming into the mechanical room. "Are you Jimmy Murphy?"

"James. I'm James Murphy," he answered her, stressing the name "James".

Goren and Eames exchanged a quick look.

"Could we talk to you out there," she asked, waving towards the pool.

"Sure. What seems to be the problem," Jimmy asked as he led the two detectives out of the room.

"I'm Detective Eames and this is my partner, Detective Goren. We're investigating the murder of Laura Wainwright. We understand you knew her."

"That – that was a long time ago. She's married now. I haven't seen her in 5 years or more," Jimmy stuttered uncomfortably.

"Oh," Goren asked him. He clasped his hands with his binder behind his back and leaned in towards Jimmy. "I don't think so." He began to move in a circle around Jimmy, still leaning towards him and continued. "You see, Laura has been murdered." Another few steps around Jimmy. Where were you last Tuesday morning?"

"I was working. The YMCA on West 63rd. I was there all day."

"Were you there at 6:30 in the morning, Jimmy," Bobby asked quietly.

Jimmy looked him straight in the eye and said slowly, "It's James; only my dad calls me Jimmy."

"I'm going to ask you again, were you there at 6:30 Tuesday morning? Because your Dad's log book doesn't show you clocking in over there until 7:30." Bobby had stopped moving around Jimmy and was now face to face with the young man.

Jimmy raised his arms in mock surrender and said cockily, "Ok, you got me. I was in the park at 6:30 Tuesday morning. But I didn't kill her; I just wanted to talk to her."

Bobby cocked his head to the left and gave James a half-smile. "You sure do have a funny way of talking to people, _Jimmy_. Laura was beaten pretty severely. Are you sure you didn't hurt her?"

Jimmy said nothing.

"Laura took out a restraining order on you five years ago. Care to explain that to us," Eames asked him. She had moved around to block Jimmy from leaving.

Jimmy turned suddenly and looked Eames right in the eyes. "I'm not saying anything else. You want me to say anything, you're gonna have to take me in."

"That can be arranged," said Goren. He grabbed Jimmy's sore hand and twisted the young man's arm around behind his back. "Let's go downtown. We'll even get you an ice pack for your sore hand after we get there."

**Major Case Squad Interrogation Room**

Jimmy Murphy sat sullenly in the metal folding chair in Interrogation Room One. As promised, Goren had given the man an ice pack, and he was holding it on his hand. Goren, Eames and Ross watched him through the glass in the observation room.

"Well, do you think he did it," asked Ross.

"Based on the way he was acting at the pool, I'd say yes," Eames stated.

"Okay, but play this one carefully. No mistakes," Ross ordered. "I'm going to watch from here."

"Yes, sir," said Bobby as he and Eames walked out of the room.

Upon entering the interrogation room, Bobby walked over to Jimmy and asked him about his hand. Murphy removed the ice pack and Bobby bent over for a closer look. "I still think it's going to be fine in a few days. It doesn't look like you broke any fingers."

"Sure hurts like it, though," Jimmy responded.

Eames had seated herself at the table across from Jimmy and was placing photographs of Laura's body and the crime scene out on the table. Next she placed a fingerprint comparison report and a toxicology report on the table. When she was done, she folded her hands and placed them on the table. She looked up at Bobby and waited for him to sit down. Bobby chose the chair next to Jimmy and looked at Eames.

"You've already told us you were in the park with Laura the morning she was killed," Eames began.

Jimmy just looked at her and said nothing.

"These pictures here show us that she was hit repeatedly with a heavy metal object, probably a monkey wrench. Are we going to find her blood on your monkey wrench, Jimmy," Eames asked.

Jimmy continued to look at her without talking, although Goren detected a slight twitch around his eyes at Eames's last question.

"Okay, then. Let's talk about the restraining order," Eames said.

Jimmy came alive at the mention of the restraining order. "That bitch! I wasn't hurting her! I loved her; I wanted to be with her. HE made her file that," he huffed.

"He, who, Jimmy," Bobby asked the man. "Her father? Her brother? A boyfriend?"

Jimmy glared at Goren. "Her father."

"What happened, Jimmy? Why did the Edwards have to file a restraining order against you," Bobby asked firmly.

"She wasn't always a rich socialite. We grew up together and in second grade she promised to marry me. It was at recess under the big tree on the playground. Anyway, after we got into high school, I wasn't one of the popular kids and she quit hanging around me, started dating other guys. I used to drive by her house all the time, follow her to make sure she got home safely from school and dates. She was my girl, you know? I guess I lost it after she turned me down for Senior Prom."

"What did you do, Jimmy," Eames asked.

"I beat up her date pretty bad. I found out the day after prom that he had tried to rape her. I was so mad that anyone would want to do that to my Laura that I couldn't help myself. He had to pay for what he did to her. Then I went to her house and tried to make her run off with me. Her dad tried to stop us and I hit him, too. He wanted to press charges for stalking, and kidnapping, but my parents talked him out of it and promised I'd go live with my grandparents for five years in exchange for a restraining order."

"How did Laura end up dead," Goren asked softly, changing both his tactic and his tone of voice. Eames sat silently and watched as her partner coaxed the rest of the story out of the young man. It never ceased to amaze her just how good he was at this part of his job. She made careful notes as the words tumbled out of Jimmy's mouth.

As Jimmy continued answering Goren's questions, it became more and more clear that he was not alone in murdering Laura. Answer by answer, the pieces began to point towards someone paying Murphy to kill her. Finally, Goren moved in for the kill.

"Who hired you to kill Laura Wainwright," Goren asked firmly.

"Her husband; Trey Wainwright."

Goren and Eames just stared at each other.


	11. The Memories

I can only publish part of this chapter here, because it's technically MA. I'll have to go find another site where I can post ALL of this chapter. PM me if you want the rest and we'll talk...So far, it's all up on the USAMB with no problems...All the usual disclaimers apply.

**Chapter 11 – The Memories**

"I'll have Trey Wainwright picked up first thing in the morning," Ross stated as he met the two detectives in the hall outside of the interrogation room.

"Just as long as we can keep Mr. Murphy on ice for a little while longer," said Eames as she headed towards the bullpen. It had been a long day and she was ready to head home and prop her feet up.

"We can keep him the usual 48 hours, but you need stronger evidence of Mr. Wainwright's involvement in all this, or Murphy goes it alone. Understand," Ross asked, looking pointedly at both of them.

"Understood, Captain," Goren replied crisply.

As the two detectives gathered their belongings from their desks and lockers, Eames looked over at Goren. "Hey, Bobby? Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Do you remember the other day when Logan mentioned the name Wainwright? You went all spacey on us there. What was that all about?" She accepted his helping her with her coat as she asked.

"Oh, that. I dated a very pretty girl with that last name." He sighed deeply and continued, a sad half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he answered her question. "She was beautiful: gorgeous smile, deep blue eyes and legs that went on for miles. We had a summer romance back when I was stationed in Germany. She broke up with me not long after she came back to the States to finish college. The whole bit about handling a long-distance relationship and not wanting to be married to someone in the military like her dad was."

"Whatever happened to her," Eames asked, pressing the button for the elevator. Something was niggling in the back of her mind and she listened very carefully for his answer.

"I'm not sure. I assume she graduated, she only had one year left, but I'm not sure where she ended up. Her grandparents lived here and she spent her summers here, but grew up all over the place since her dad was in the Army. Why?" He held the elevator doors open for her and followed her inside.

"Just curious. You seemed so, I don't know, happy with that memory. It's nice to see you happy, even if just for a little while."

The two detectives made their way down the elevator to the parking garage and headed to their vehicles.

"You wanna go grab a bite to eat," Eames asked Bobby as she opened the door to her car. "Chinese. I'm buying."

"No thanks," Goren said, holding up several bulging files. "I'm going straight home to leftovers from Sal's and these folders. I'm trying to do a better job of keeping up with my paperwork."

"Okay, then. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Eames," Bobby replied. He watched her drive off before slipping smoothly into his Malibu and heading for home.

As Bobby drove, his thoughts began to wander. Twenty-five years faded away in a rush of feelings and emotions and he was standing in the USO again, spit-shined and polished, holding a beer in his hand and falling in love with a smile. Next, he was dancing with a long-legged angel and drowning in the bluest eyes he thought he had ever seen in his young life.

Bobby had to chuckle as he remembered sitting next to her and laughing hysterically at the German-dubbed movie "Airplane!" with American subtitles. He remembered sneaking out of the office to meet her for lunch in Mannheim and group dating with her two girlfriends and their "flavors of the month" as Amy referred to the girls' ever-changing roster of dates. He even recalled the first time he met her parents, Patty and AJ, at their annual 4th of July bar-be-que.

As Bobby arrived at home, he remembered the last time he was with Amy in Germany, the night before she flew back to Texas. Amy, her two friends Kelly and Susan, her parents and he all went out for a final dinner at Amy's favorite restaurant in Heidelberg. Patty had brought her camera and had stopped a stranger on the street and asked him to take a group picture of them.

Bobby removed his jacked and tie and tossed them carelessly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He placed his badge and cell phone on the kitchen table and emptied his pockets. He moved into his bedroom and carefully placed his gun in the lockbox. Entering the closet, he kicked off his shoes and reached to the back of the high closet shelf and brought out a small box. Opening the box, he moved back into the living room and turned on the light. He carried the box into the kitchen where he poured himself a drink. He smiled as he stood at the counter and looked down at the pictures in the box. He pulled out the one on top; it was Amy behind the counter of the PX on post in Heidelberg. She hated that picture, but Bobby loved it. In the photo, Amy was looking annoyed and had her arm extended and her hand up as though to block her face from the picture. He thought she was beautiful.

He carried the box and his glass of scotch to the couch. Sitting down, he stretched his long legs out the length of the sofa and stuck a pillow behind his back. He carefully balanced the box on his lap and took a long sip of the scotch before placing his drink on the floor within arm's reach. As the warm liquid made its way down his throat, he pulled out more pictures and sighed deeply. They brought back such good memories; he smiled without realizing it as he flipped through the pictures and mementos. At the bottom was the picture he had remembered in the car. There they all were, after their final dinner that night. He and Amy were in the middle, AJ and Patty on the left and Susan and Kelly on the right. They were standing outside the restaurant they had just left. He tossed it on the coffee table next to him; that was the picture he wanted to show Eames in the morning.

As he began to place the photos and cards back in the box, one photo in particular caught his eye. It was Amy, sitting on a blanket with the mountains in the back and a clear blue sky above. Her eyes sparkled at him; the eyes of a young woman in love with the photographer. Time faded away as the memory of that location rushed back to him. The feelings overwhelmed him and he responded physically to the sensations that merely looking at that photo aroused within him. At first he was shocked by the strength of his reaction, but as he replayed the events of the day that led up to that place, that photo, that look in her eyes, he realized that he still felt strongly about her. He took another sip of scotch, laid his head back, closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember.

It had all started because he so desperately wanted to kiss her.

He had completely understood her reasons for not kissing early on in their relationship. She was still smarting from the break-up with her boyfriend of three years several months earlier. It had been a particularly painful experience for her that had left a very bad taste in her mouth and a very large hole in her heart. She had had no desire to allow herself to fall too fast, too soon, too quickly.

By the end of the summer, however, things were very different; at least they were for Bobby. Unbeknownst to Amy, Bobby had conspired with her parents, her friends, several soldiers and several local businesses to put together a scavenger hunt for her. The goal was to end up collecting all the necessary items for a picnic day up in the mountains and whisking her off to enjoy it. He smiled as he remembered how much fun he had had sneaking around all week setting everything up just so. The smile on her face when she entered the USO after finding the last clue told him it had all been worth the effort.

Bobby had shocked them both by wondering out loud what it was going to take for him to be able to kiss her. Likewise, Amy's reaction had surprised him; her slamming on the brakes to pull off the road and leap into his lap and kiss him was totally unexpected and out of character for her. The ensuing romantic encounter that followed shook them both to the core. The depth of her physical response to him was both a surprise and a delight, and had left Bobby hopeful for a more intimate relationship in the long run.

Amy had been unable to drive once she recovered from the fiery orgasm Bobby's caresses had given her, so Bobby took over in the driver's seat and continued heading up into the mountains.

"Wow," Amy breathed. She was grinning like an idiot and still lolling in the aftermath of their passionate encounter.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Amy answered back. She giggled; Bobby grinned even wider. Amy reached over and grabbed his hand while they drove. "Why didn't you just grab me and kiss me like that before now?"

"Like that? On your parents' front porch? I don't think that would have gone over very well," Bobby said, casting a sideways grin at her.

"Yeah; you're probably right. Dad would have found a way to dishonorably discharge your butt all the way back to pre-school if he'd seen you doing that to me on our front porch," Amy said, laughing at the thought of her Dad seeing what had just transpired between them. "I know he likes you and all, but I can't even handle the thought of Dad doing to Mom what you just did to me, much less them having sex."

"Only once, huh," Bobby asked her.

"What," Amy exclaimed. "Oh, I get it; only once."

They laughed.

The rest of their drive continued in much the same way, the two of them engaged in a playful banter that was now laced with innuendo and intimacy. Amy had taken to unconsciously drawing lazy circles on Bobby's leg with her soft fingers and he was afraid if they didn't get to his chosen spot soon, they would be pulling over to the shoulder of the road again, but for more than heavy petting this time.

The spot Bobby had chosen was gorgeous; a secluded glen with mountains in the background, several large trees for shade, and total isolation all around. He had even brought a camera, and Amy spent several minutes just taking pictures of the spectacular location.

Bobby unpacked the car and carried everything over to one of the larger trees. He began spreading the blanket out when Amy suddenly and quietly appeared at his side. In the unspoken language of two people who have become lovers, they spread out the blanket and laid out their lunch. Bobby reclined his long lean body along one edge of the blanket and rose up on one arm to face Amy. She sat across from him and began to fix him a sandwich.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled softly as her cheeks blushed. Bobby reached out with his long arm and gently pushed her dark hair off her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. It was a move he had seen her do unconsciously and often, and it touched her that he noticed and moved her hair for her. His hand lingered for a moment on the back of her neck and their eyes met and held for a brief moment. Amy shrugged her shoulders slightly and looked back down at the sandwich she was preparing for him.

"What do you want on your sandwich," she had asked him.

"I'm not hungry," he replied huskily. _Not for food anyway._

"Oh," was all Amy could say. "You'll need your strength." Bobby looked intently at her and raised one eyebrow in silent curiosity. _Does she really know what she's saying?_

Her eye contact suddenly became as equally intense as his, which only succeeded in stoking the flame stirring inside him even more. _Does she have any idea what she is doing to me? How she is making me feel? If she doesn't stop, I won't be responsible for my actions…._

Somehow Amy fixed herself a sandwich and both had eaten, although neither was aware of the taste of the food or the flavor of the drink. There had been no conversation; leastwise not the kind with words, for both had looked deeply into each others' eyes for most of the meal.

When they were done, they quickly and quietly packed up their supplies and moved them off the blanket.

Bobby returned to reclining on his side and Amy sat just out of arm's reach and faced him. Neither spoke. The air was heavy with sexual tension and the unspoken question that hung between them.

Finally, Amy spoke. "Thank you," she said.

Bobby raised one eyebrow and continued to look at her intently.

"For all this," she said, as she moved her arm, indicating the location, the day, the meal. "I still can't believe you did all this just for me. I don't really know what else to say."

Suddenly, Amy crawled forward towards him. He watched as she slinked slowly across the blanket, never taking her eyes off him, and placed a soft tender kiss on his lips. She pulled back and met his gaze. Slowly she leaned in again, placing her lips once more on his. This time she lingered. Bobby willed himself to stay calm as Amy pulled her legs up underneath herself and pressed her lips more firmly against his. Amy sighed sweetly when he opened his lips and allowed her to deepen their kiss. God give me strength, Bobby prayed.

When Amy pulled back and smiled into his eyes, Bobby thought he had died and gone to heaven. It took every last ounce of his strength not to flip her over and rip her clothes off right then and there. _Remember_, he said to himself, _that's not the kind of experience she needs to have with you. She needs tenderness; a gentle lover, not a selfish jerk._

She began raining kisses along his jaw line, slowly making her way towards his ear. When she began laving his ear with her tongue, Bobby felt an explosion in the pit of his stomach like he'd never had before; he groaned. She giggled wickedly and kept slowly moving her tongue around on his ear. She opened her mouth and carefully placed it over his earlobe. When her mouth closed over the sensitive flesh and she scraped her teeth and pulled, sucking the tender lobe as she did, Bobby moaned louder. He was stunned by the depth of his reaction to her, and he fought back the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her again.

Amy placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him down onto the blanket; she lowered her body on top of his and noticed his arousal. "Did I do that," she said innocently, although the look in her eyes told Bobby she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He decided at that point that he would simply lay back and enjoy the moment.

He had chosen to wear a light-weight cotton button-down shirt and chino shorts, and as Amy started slowly unbuttoning each button and kissing his exposed skin as she made her way down his chest, he was thankful he hadn't opted for a t-shirt. Half-way down his chest, Amy raised her head. She caught his gaze intently and slid her hands into his shirt and across his pectoral muscles. She smiled in satisfaction as she felt his nipples harden and heard his sudden sharp intake of breath.

"Amy," he moaned. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"Shhhh," she replied, touching his lips softly with her finger. She smiled seductively at him as she gently tugged his shirt free from the waistband of his shorts. Amy could tell he was on a short fuse, and she delighted in the power she now held over him. She held his gaze with that same smile as she finished unbuttoning his shirt. She pushed it open and lowered her mouth to his now bare skin. Amy began raining kisses across his chest and made her way slowly down to his navel, where she ran her tongue around its edge in slow lazy circles before flicking it in and out and finally nipping at the lower rim. Bobby cried out as his back arched and his body bucked at the sensations she was sending through his body. He'd had other lovers before, but none had ever made him feel like this.

Amy slowly pulled herself up along his chest to stare down into his smoldering eyes. She held his gaze for a moment before lowering her mouth to his for a long soul-searing kiss. Bobby reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her firmly and returning her kiss just as fervently. He was on fire and nearly out of control, but he gently pushed Amy up by her shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"Do you want this," he asked her.

She nodded.

"Are you sure? I mean, really sure? Things will never go back to the way they were before; you realize that, don't you?"

She looked at him with an intensity that amazed him and nodded again. She shifted and slid off to sit next to him on the blanket. "I'm not a virgin, Bobby. I'm totally aware of what's going on and what will change. I'd've never gotten out of the car earlier if I didn't want this. And if you don't hurry up and kiss me agai-mmmph..."

Much later, after both were completely satisfied from the most amazing coupling they had ever experienced, after they had caught their breath, Bobby lifted his head, propped himself on his left elbow and smiled down at her. "What's wrong," he asked, as he noticed the tear running down her right cheek. "Did I hurt you?"

Amy shook her head. "No," she said with a catch in her throat. "I—it's just…well, I wish we'd done this a lot sooner, is all. I mean, I'm leaving tomorrow, and I don't know when I'll see you again, and that was so wonderful…." Her voice faded off as she began crying in earnest.

"Oh, Baby, it's alright," Bobby told her gently. He moved completely off her and shifted to fit her into the curve of his shoulder. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted his face to hers. "I'll see you at Christmas."

"I know….but….oh, Bobby! I'm gonna miss you so much." Amy buried her face in his shoulder and cried.

Bobby remembered how helpless he had felt in those few moments. Finally Amy had sat up, smiling at him as she wiped away her tears. "I'm a mess," she had said with a half-laugh.

"I think you look beautiful," he told her as he gently brushed her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"We should be going, shouldn't we?"

Bobby looked at his watch. "Yeah, we should. We need to get back and get cleaned up for dinner with your parents and Susan and Kelly."

They moved in silence as they cleaned each other up as best they could and re-dressed. Bobby then picked up the camera and asked if he could take her picture.


	12. He Knows

Thanks to my betas for all their help. As always, the usual disclaimers apply.

Chapter 12 He Knows

"I'll pay for that," Eames said, reaching around the big man in front of her to hand the cashier a twenty. He hadn't seen her come up behind him, but she had noticed him. She had also seen that he was fumbling in his wallet and frantically searching his pockets for enough change to pay for his purchases. _Typical Bobby,_ she had thought as she pulled the money out of her wallet. _So preoccupied with his case load, he forgot to stop by the bank for more cash._

Bobby turned to look at his partner with a sheepish smile. "Thanks. I owe you."

"Forget it," she said, waving her hand at him. "My treat."

They moved to the other end of the counter to await the completion of their orders.

"But, it's my turn to buy the coffee." For some time now, the two detectives had found themselves in the habit of alternately buying coffee for each other. Neither one really knew just how or when it started, but both enjoyed the gesture.

They accepted their coffees from the barista and moved off towards the condiments bar. Bobby handed Alex a cardboard sleeve for her steaming cup and took one for his. He waited patiently for Alex to fix her coffee the way she liked it, one cream and two sugars, before speaking to her again. "Eames, I insist on paying you back tomorrow."

"For coffee? Bobby, really, it's no big deal," she looked up and saw the expression on his face. "I'll tell you what, why don't you buy the next two days and we'll call it even?"

"Okay," he replied gratefully. They moved carefully through the crowd to the door. Bobby held open the door for Alex and joined her on the busy sidewalk, where they began to make their way towards One Police Plaza.

"You must have been quite distracted by those case files you took home to forget to go to the bank last night," she commented.

"Hmm? Oh, no," Bobby replied sheepishly. "I, uh, never got around to going through them," he admitted hesitantly.

"Really? Nothing happened with your brother, did it," Eames asked concernedly. Frank was still recovering in the hospital from being beaten up recently, and Eames knew that caring for him occupied quite a bit of Bobby's spare time lately.

"No, no. Frank's doing fine. So fine, in fact," Bobby answered her wryly, "that he doesn't want to see me. I didn't go last night. No, I was still thinking about that summer romance I told you about yesterday. I remembered some of the things we had done together and by the time I got home, remembered a box of pictures and mementos in my closet. I pulled it down, started going through the contents, and lost track of time. I brought a picture that I want you to see. I'll show it to you after we get settled." He opened the door to One Police Plaza.

"Don't forget the unis were going to be picking up Trey Wainwright today," Eames reminded him as they entered. "Did you run that stuff down to forensics last night?"

"Yeah, I sent it with Wheeler. She was taking some of their stuff down and offered to take ours. I wonder how long it'll take them to find anything," Goren mused.

"Well, seeing as how this case is priority one right now, hopefully not too long," Eames responded.

They rode up the elevator in company with several others who worked in the building. The group all made small talk about coming plans for the weekend, family news and sports scores. All were careful not to discuss any work business that could come back to get them in trouble later.

Bobby and Alex entered the bullpen and settled themselves at their desks. They soon became absorbed in phone messages and lab reports. A young, uniformed officer approached them and quietly informed them, "Mr. Wainwright has been brought into the holding cells. Would you like to have him brought up to interrogation?"

Bobby looked at Alex. "In about 20 minutes, please. We need to gather up a few things before we question him. Thank you, Officer Landis," Bobby replied. The officer gave them a quick nod and left.

Bobby began pulling papers and files out of his binder. A photograph fell out onto his desk and he picked it up and studied it. He stood and moved around to Alex's side of the desk.

"Eames," he said, holding the photograph out where she could see it. "Here is the picture I told you about earlier; the one from Germany." He began pointing to the people in the picture as he continued to talk. "This is me; this is Amy, she's the Wainwright I told you about. These people here are her parents, AJ and Patty; and these two girls are Susan and Kelly, Amy's best friends. We took this picture after dinner at Amy's favorite restaurant. She left for the States the next morning."

"Uh, Bobby," Eames asked. Bobby looked at her and was shocked to see her face pale and her eyes stunned as they stared at the photograph she was now holding.

"Eames, is something wrong?"

"Bobby, I-I've seen this picture…" Suddenly, everything fell into place in Eames's head, as though there had been blinders over her eyes that had just now been removed. She placed her hand on his arm and looked urgently up into his face. "Bobby, can I have this picture? I need to go see Captain Ross." She stood abruptly and strode straight into Ross's office, picture in hand, shaken look still on her face. She closed the door behind her.

Bobby's gaze followed her progress into the Captain's office with dread. _She's seen that picture before? The only other person that has that picture is—_his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud commotion out in the hall. A woman's voice was raised in anger and frustration and he turned his head in that direction. Several of the detectives closest to the elevator had intercepted the woman and were trying to deny her entry into the squad room.

"I said, _move out of my way!_ My son has been arrested and I demand answers. NOW!" The force of the woman's voice had everyone staring in her direction. The door to the Captain's office flung open and Eames flew out into the room, headed straight for the irate woman. The woman swung her head around, her piercing gaze searching the room as though looking for someone in particular. _"NO," _thought Eames, but she was too late, as the full force of Amy's angry gaze bore down on her partner.

Ross was hot on Alex's heels and he quickly sized up the situation, calling off the officers and motioning for the detectives to allow the woman to pass.

"You bastard," she screamed at Bobby as she moved suddenly in his direction. All Bobby could register was a tall, angry woman with flowing black hair and flames in her eyes headed towards him.

"This is all your fault! Do you have any idea what you've done," she continued loudly. Bobby stared dumbfounded as she came towards him, meeting him face to face. "Well, do you?"

"I, uh….Amy?" Shock and confusion were all over his face as he stared at her. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

"What am I _doing_ here? You arrested my son, you asshole!" This time there was anger in her whole body as she swung her arm at him. Bobby was quick to catch the movement out of the side of his eye, and just as quickly, grabbed her wrist. He was not fast enough to stop her purse, which continued on its arc and slammed into his back. He had braced his legs and the purse fell harmlessly away. He ignored the flash of pain in his back and groped for words.

Thankfully, Ross came to his rescue, or tried to at least. He put a firm hand on Amy's shoulder. "Ma'am? Would you please not hit my detective? If you'd come with me to the—"

Amy whirled around and stared pointedly at Captain Ross. "If I'd wanted to speak to you, I'd've addressed you," she stated firmly, each word punctuated with indignation and fury. "You have done nothing wrong here. Now, let. Me. Go." Silently, Ross backed away.

"Amy," Bobby spoke to her softly. She turned around and faced him, her eyes now full of hurt to go with the anger he still saw there. He took a deep breath and continued. "The Captain is right. We should go into the visitor's room to finish this discussion." He looked her straight in eyes with what he hoped was a calm authority she would recognize and respond to.

She stared at him for a few tense moments. No one in the squad room dared move, for fear they would set her off again. She sighed, and Bobby saw the fight slowly leave her as her shoulders began to slump in resignation. Amy nodded and allowed Bobby to lead the way.

Once they were settled in the small room, Eames entered with several files. "Bobby will go over the facts of the case with you as we know them so far, Mrs. Wainwright. May I bring you anything to drink? Coffee, water, soda?"

Amy looked at Eames. "Do you think you could find me some bottled water?"

Eames nodded at her and quietly left, softly shutting the door behind her.

Ross met Eames as she crossed the squad room. "Well? Will there be peace in here now?"

"For a while, at least, Captain. I'm sure that will all change once Bobby figures out that Trey Wainwright is his son." She spoke this last part very quietly, so that they would not be overheard. The department would find out soon enough, but needed to hear it from Bobby, not from the rumor mill.

Eames returned to the visitor's room with a bottle of water for Amy. Bobby followed her back outside. "How is she, Bobby," Eames asked him.

"She's mad, of course. Keeps telling me this is all my fault, but can't or won't explain further. Do you want to come back in there with me and explain the case to her?"

"No. You need to do this yourself. I'll go track down our friendly forensic accountant and see if he's uncovered anything we can use when we question Mr. Wainwright." She turned suddenly on her heel and walked away, leaving Bobby even more confused.

Bobby entered the small room once more and took the seat at the table opposite Amy. Neither one of them spoke; they simply looked at each other.

"This was not the way I'd ever imagined seeing you again," Bobby finally said. Amy gave him a sad small smile and sipped her water.

"You said this was all my fault? You care to explain that to me," Bobby continued, his eyes never leaving her face, searching her eyes, her features, for anything, any clue, that could possibly shed some light onto the situation. Her face was calm and composed, and she took a deep breath before she spoke.

"You arrested my son," she stated simply.

"Your son?"

Yes, my son. Trey Wainwright."

"Trey Wainwright is _your_ son?" Bobby was really confused now; this case just got stranger and stranger.

"Yes," Amy stated matter-of-factly. She was watching him almost curiously, Bobby realized, as though waiting for him to come to some earth-shattering conclusion regarding her statement.

"I see." Bobby looked down at the stack of folders and papers that Eames had left on the table. He opened the first folder, expecting to see his latest case summary. He was surprised and shocked to see his own eyes staring back at him, except they weren't his eyes, not exactly. They were brown like his, but the shape was not quite right; it was different, as though someone else had had a hand in shaping them and setting them into a face that was strangely similar to his and strangely familiar to him in appearance. The image before him was unsettling, seeming to be him from 25 years ago, young, smiling and fresh faced; yet not him, bearing the impressions of another face….the face sitting across from him.

The color began to drain from his face and his heart began to pound loudly, blood roaring in his ears as thoughts and images rushed into his memory, fighting to come to the forefront and make themselves known to him. He stuttered and stumbled, mumbling to himself as he flipped to the next photo, this one a picture of Laura, the victim, standing next to the smiling young man who looked like him yet was not him. A third picture, this one with the addition of a child in the arms of the young man, a child who looked like the young man, but with the bright blonde hair and big blue eyes of his mother. He flipped madly through the papers in the folders, finally stopping on the intake report from Trey's arrest. Name: Adam Jefferson Wainwright, III; "Trey". The date of birth leaping off the page: May 5, 1984.

Without a word, he looked back across the table at Amy. She had been watching him intently, trying to gauge his reaction, seeing the pieces fall into place in his head, afraid to say anything, afraid to speak for fear that the words would come out all wrong, that she would screw it all up again….

He looked up at her with hurt and anguish in his eyes. "Is he…" he couldn't say it, could not bring himself to say "my son", two simple words that would irrevocably change his life forever.

Amy looked at him. She was afraid to answer, afraid he would hate her; afraid of what might have been, could have been had she told him the truth all those years ago. Afraid of what he might say, what he might do; afraid of what would change once he learned the truth. Bobby saw all this and more play across her face and swirl around in her eyes.

If he hadn't been watching carefully, he would have missed it, a barely imperceptible nod before she turned her head away from him. Bobby sat still, too stunned to move. The realization of what he had just learned suddenly came crashing down on him and he slammed his hand down hard onto the table. Amy jumped in her chair and stared at him. Bobby turned his face away from her; he placed his elbow on the table, bringing his fist up to his mouth, and stared unseeing out through the glass.

Eames had started when she heard the noise, turning towards the visitor's room in time to realize what had happened. She stood and watched as her partner, with pain in his eyes, turned his face away from the mother of his child.


	13. Forensic Accounting Really Sucks

_With many thanks to my beta girls. I love you for all your insight, help and encouragement; also to my fans and friends on the USA Message Board and here who keep me going in telling this story -- I love you all, too. As always, thanks to DW, et al and the usual disclaimers apply!_

Chapter 13 Forensic Accounting Really Sucks

Joshua Simmons entered the Major Case Squad bullpen to find total silence. The kind of silence that falls over a room when someone has just done something that no one expected. The kind where no one wants to make the first move. He decided to make the first move.

He approached Detective Eames and spoke to her quietly. "Detective Eames?"

"Yes," she said, turning around slowly to face him. She seemed reluctant to turn away from whatever it was she had been staring at.

"I, uh, I'm not yet finished going over Trey Wainwright's financial records but I've found something very interesting. Is there somewhere we could talk?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Over here." Eames led Simmons towards the conference room. _I hope they're not mad at me_, she prayed quietly.

They sat down at opposite sides of the conference room table and Joshua spread the papers out in front of her. Eames took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully to re-focus her attention on the case at hand.

"I noticed something that seemed insignificant at first. There are regular payments of 6,000 on the same day of every month to the same person. I didn't think much of it, since it seemed like he was paying off a purchase. You know, like in installments?"

Eames nodded, and Joshua continued. "Notice the name of the person receiving the payments." He pointed to the transactions in particular; he had highlighted them neatly with yellow highlighter and they jumped off the page at Eames.

"James Murphy. Trey was making regular monthly payments to James Murphy," Eames asked in astonishment.

"Yes. Once I found out that was the name of the guy brought in the other day, I thought you should know right away. The payments go back for one year." He looked at Eames in anticipation of her reaction to his next statement. "They total 50,000."

Eames' head shot up at Simmons's last remark. "Really? That is interesting. Good work. Can I have these," she asked him, indicating the papers before her on the table.

"Yes. I have copies for myself. You want me to keep looking, or is this enough?"

"Keep looking and send me a full report when you're done. Thank you." Simmons left the room. Eames slowly gathered up the papers before her_. I hope for Bobby's sake, Trey has a really good reason for paying James Murphy all that money._

Eames took the papers, grabbed a file off her desk and made her way towards Ross's office. She glanced over her shoulder at the visitor's room. Bobby was now looking at Amy, who was talking. His hands were restless, moving across the table, rubbing his hair, the back of his neck, clenching and unclenching as he listened, but, he was listening. _Good,_ thought Eames. _He needs to listen. I just hope he likes what he's hearing._

Bobby did not like what he was hearing. He had agreed to hear her out, so he was listening, but he was not happy. He was finding out that, for the last 24 years, his son had grown up practically under his nose and he had never known. Even worse, the mother of his son had known where he was all this time and had never contacted him. She was begging him to understand, pleading with him for it, as though her very existence depended on it. All he knew was that right now, at this very minute, he felt more alone than ever before. He could have had a family, a real family, with a wife and a child to love and care for; a family that would have been there for him when only his job and now his current partner were.

"Bobby, he's not going to be charged with murder, is he," Amy was now asking.

"I don't know, Amy." Bobby sighed and rubbed the back of his neck again. "No one's been in to talk to him yet. He's been accused of paying a man we picked up in connection with Laura's murder. First our forensic accountant has to go over all of his financial records, then Eames and I have to look at that report, then we go talk to Trey. We'll see after that. I don't like it anymore than you do, Amy, but we have to cover all the bases."

Amy reached out and placed her hand on one of Bobby's, stopping it from rubbing back and forth across the table. Bobby stared at her hand for a brief moment, and then looked up into blue eyes he thought he would never see again. "You can't question him, Bobby. You just can't. Let someone else do it," Amy said.

"He needs to know," Bobby said.

Amy knew he wasn't talking about the charges. "I'll tell him later, after we're back home. This is not the time or the place."

"When, Amy? When will it be the time and place? You've had 24 years for it to be the time and place, and he still doesn't know." Bobby angrily jerked his hand away from hers, stood up and started pacing in the small room.

"You are right," he said suddenly after pacing for a few moments. "I can't question him. Not only is it a conflict of interest, but I wouldn't be able to control myself. Eames'll just have to get someone else to question him with her. Maybe Captain Ross will do it."

Amy looked at Bobby with a sad smile. "Thank you," she said softly.

"We're not finished with this," Bobby told her, looking steadily at her.

"I know," she replied.

"I need time."

"I know that, too."

Bobby stared at her. "I was going to ask you to marry me when you came back for Christmas break. Did you know that?" He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Amy staring stunned at his departing back.

It was Detective Goren who strode out of the visitor's room towards the captain's office. He simultaneously knocked, opened the door and spoke, stopping in mid-sentence as Eames and Ross looked up at him from where they'd been studying several sheets of paper laid out across the desk.

"Yes, Detective," Ross asked him.

"I'm sorry; I didn't realize you still had someone in here. I'll come back later," Goren said, taking a step back and starting to close the door.

"No, that won't be necessary," Ross stated, waving Goren into his office. "You need to see this anyway." Ross handed Goren one of the pages as he neared the desk.

"These are the initial findings from Simmons, the forensic accountant," Eames told him. "Trey's been paying James Murphy 6,000 a month for the last 12 months; a grand total of 50,000 dollars."

"Damn it," Bobby muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Eames said sympathetically. "It appears, at least for now, that Mr. Murphy _was_ telling the truth when he said Trey paid him to kill Laura."

Bobby handed Eames back the sheet and rubbed his hand through his grey curls, looked down at his shoes, and sighed. "Captain, we have to talk about that. Trey Wainwright is my son. I can't question him."

"I understand," Ross said. "Would you prefer it if I went in there with Eames and you watched through the glass? We could really use your insight if we're going to find any way to get Mr. Wainwright out of this mess."

Bobby looked up at Ross, stunned at what he had just heard. "How long have you known," Bobby asked him, making one of his famous mental leaps from A to D.

"For sure? Today, when Eames brought me that photo of yours. She and I have suspected since the case came in. She found the pictures of Laura with Trey, and well, the resemblance was uncanny. We felt it in everyone's best interest to keep those pictures out of sight until we could confirm it for ourselves. How are you holding up?"

"To be honest, I'm not really sure right now, Captain. I may need some time off to think things over."

"I understand. Let's get Trey's questioning out of the way and you can take all the time you need," Ross said understandingly.

"Thank you, Captain. I would appreciate it. So, what's the game plan," Bobby asked, looking at Eames and Ross.

When they left Ross's office some time later, they found Amy Wainwright sitting at Bobby's desk visiting with a distinguished looking gentleman who was seated at Eames's desk. The two seemed to be going over some papers and having an intense discussion.

Eames gave Bobby one of those special looks that pass between them, the kind that speaks volumes without saying one oral word. She approached the pair at the desks and cleared her throat.

"Oh, hello Detective Eames," Amy said cordially as she stood and faced the three officers. "I'm sorry we're using your desks, we needed to talk and they were the only ones available. We got kicked out of the visitor's room." She turned to gentleman with her, who had also risen to stand. "Detectives, this is my lawyer, Andrew Harrington. He'll also be representing Trey. Andrew, this is Detective Eames, Detective Goren," she indicated each in turn. "And, I'm sorry; I don't believe I know who you are." She looked at Captain Ross.

"Captain Ross," Ross said. "I'm the head of this department."

"I'm sorry for my behavior earlier Captain. I was rather distraught."

"Apology accepted, Ma'am," Ross said with a nod. "Mr. Harrington, if you'll come with me, I'll take you to the interrogation room and we'll have Mr. Wainwright brought in."

Harrington nodded to the other three and followed Captain Ross out of the bullpen and down the hall.

Bobby looked at Eames. "I, uh, I need to go get those files out of the visitor's room." He turned to leave.

"Bobby," Amy called. Bobby turned and looked at her curiously. "I grabbed the files. They're on that chair by the Captain's door. Andrew and I had some other papers we needed to go over, so I put the files over there. We didn't want anyone accusing us of looking at them out of turn. It was Andrew's idea. I hope that's ok?"

Bobby studiously looked at her; he tilted his head slightly to the left. Amy returned his gaze with equal measure. "Thank you," he finally said. He went over to the chair and retrieved the files. "I'll be in the observation room if you need me, Eames." He walked away.

Amy turned and looked uncomfortably at Eames. "I really am sorry for my behavior earlier."

"You should be," Eames told her forcefully. She took a step closer to the taller woman and pulled herself up as tall as she could. "He didn't know, Amy. You never told him. Do you have any idea what that has done to him?" Alex held up her hand to stop Amy and continued. "You have no idea how his life has been since he got back from the Army. You know nothing about his family, his childhood, his emotional state, nothing. Knowing about Trey would have meant everything to him. Everything. I don't have time to explain it to you, but you and I need to have a long talk before you go anywhere near Bobby again. Do you understand me? Stay away from Bobby."

Eames turned on her heel and walked away, leaving a stunned Amy standing in the middle of the squad room, all eyes on her. She moved back over to Bobby's chair and sunk down in it.


	14. Let's Go Nail the Bastard

_Thanks to TCIF and Ciaddict for their help and to all my fans who encourage me with their reviews, feedback and kind words. Once again, the usual disclaimers apply..._

Chapter 14 Let's Go Nail the Bastard

Bobby walked into the observation room, his brain a jumble of mish mashed thoughts. He'd just been on a roller coaster ride of conflicting emotions and had gotten news he never imagined possible. He was a father; he had arrested his son; he had a daughter-in-law he now would never get to meet, and if memory served him correctly, he was also a grandfather. He dropped down heavily into a wobbly folding chair someone had stuck off in the corner. He left the lights off and began jostling the file folders he held in his hands.

_What was she thinking, not telling me she was pregnant all those years ago? Was that why she broke up with me?_ He looked out through the one-way glass at the young man sitting at the table in the next room. _Who is he, really? What is he like? Will he like me? Will I like him?_ All these thoughts and more were swimming through his brain. He shook his head. Now was not the time for this; he was supposed to be observing the young man and watching his interactions with his lawyer and coming up with a profile for Ross and Eames. There would be time for those other questions later.

Bobby took a deep breath in, held it for a moment and let it out slowly, clearing his head and standing up. He moved over to the window and placed the folders on the nearby table. He watched Trey carefully, noticing his casual clothing; high end, but casual nonetheless. He took in Trey's mannerisms, his posture, the attention and respect he gave to his lawyer. Mr. Harrington was a good lawyer; Bobby had encountered him professionally before, and knew Trey was in good hands legally.

The door opened, and Ross and Eames entered quietly. Eames went to the table and began to organize the files for the interrogation. Ross stood next to Bobby, crossed his arms over his chest and quietly observed the two men in the next room. He knew Bobby needed to speak first, so he waited patiently.

"He respects his lawyer, trusts him," Bobby began. "He respects himself; notice his grooming and his dress? Neat but not overly so. See the way he looks his lawyer directly in the eye when listening to him? That shows he respects his lawyer." Bobby shifted his weight and began gesturing as he spoke, pointing at Trey through the glass. "He looks his lawyer in the eye when talking to him, too. He gives you his full attention and expects the same in return. Treat him as an equal, Captain. Respect him and he'll respect you in return. He should be fairly straightforward, but don't be surprised if Mr. Harrington has told him not to say anything."

Ross caught Bobby's reflection in the glass and held his gaze. "Have you dealt with Mr. Harrington before?" Bobby nodded. "Okay, then," Ross said, turning away from the glass. "Eames? You ready?"

"Yes, Captain."

Ross opened the door and gestured for her to exit ahead of him.

"I'll take care of it, Bobby," Eames said to him as she left.

Bobby gave her a half-smile and a small wave, crossed his arms back over his chest, placing his left fist up to his mouth, and returned to studying his son.

Eames entered the interrogation room followed by Captain Ross. Neither one spoke as they took their seats at the table opposite Trey and Mr. Harrington. They carefully arranged the files on the table, and then looked at the two men.

Eames began. "Mr. Wainwright, do you understand why you've been brought in?"

"I was told I was under arrest for the murder of my wife," the young man answered her incredulously. "But that's not true, I didn't do it!"

"Could you please tell us where you were last Tuesday morning, between 6 and 8 am," she asked him next.

"I was out of the country," he shifted and looked anxiously at his lawyer. "I thought you said my mom had told them all this earlier. Why are they asking me? I don't know anything!"

Mr. Harrington placed a gentle hand on Trey's arm to settle his panic. "It's okay, Trey. They have to establish a timeline and they ask everyone these same questions. Just do like we discussed and answer them honestly." Mr. Harrington gave Trey a reassuring look and encouraged him to continue.

Trey turned his head back towards Alex. _Oh, my God; those are Bobby's eyes_, she found herself thinking. _Stop it, stay focused_, she told herself sternly.

"I was overseas on business with the winery. Laura called me before she went out for her run. I didn't know she was missing until Mom called me that afternoon."

"What was your marriage like? Were you happy," Eames asked him.

"We were very happy. I love…I mean, loved Laura very much and she loved me," Trey answered earnestly.

"Did you have any reason to suspect Laura of being unfaithful to you," Eames asked him gently. "I know this is hard, but I have to ask."

Trey looked at her with the same sad brown eyes she had been sitting across from and working with for the past 8 years. His hands balled into fists on top of the table as he battled with fear and anger, the emotions playing across his face. Finally, he took a deep breath and rubbed his hand through his hair in a gesture so like his father's, Eames had to struggle to stay neutral. "No," he said. I've never had any reason to suspect that. Why do you ask? Did you find something in the investigation I should know about?" His emotions began to get the better of him and his voice rose in volume. Mr. Harrington again placed his hand firmly on Trey's arm; Trey took a deep breath and calmed down.

Eames decided to come back to that topic later, so she changed directions with her next question. "What is your relationship with Jimmy Murphy?"

"Jimmy Murphy," Trey questioned incredulously. "I don't have a relationship with Jimmy Murphy."

At this point, Ross took over, moving a piece of paper in front of Trey and his lawyer. "Would you care to explain these monthly charges to James Murphy, then."

Trey leaned forward and looked at the page. Then he sighed and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. Again, Eames worked very hard to control herself at the gesture; _he's so much like his father, _she thought,_ and yet he never knew him. Amazing._

"Oh, that," Trey said. "After Hudson was born, Laura had a bout with post-partum depression. We tried everything; therapy, medication, diet, change of scenery. In fact, the change of scenery is why I've been paying Mr. Murphy every month. We bought a home out in the Hamptons last year. As a surprise to Laura, I'm having a pool put in. Those payments are the installments on the pool. I didn't want Laura to know what I was doing." His voice broke and he struggled to regain his composure before continuing further. "She had no idea. I was going to surprise her when we went out there next month."

Ross and Eames were quiet for a minute. Silently, Ross reached out and pulled the page back across the table and placed it in the file. Finally, he spoke. "Were you aware that Laura had a restraining order out on Jimmy Murphy?"

"Aw, man," Trey said with a shake of his head. "I knew she had a restraining order out against an ex-boyfriend, but I had no idea it was against him. But that doesn't make sense. The James Murphy I dealt with is an older gentleman."

"Jimmy Murphy is his son," Eames told him. "We still have him in custody here. We need to question him some more, then we'll get back to you, but this is all starting to look like a huge misunderstanding. Please be patient with us a little while longer."

Eames and Ross left the interrogation room and joined Bobby in the observation room. "Well? What do you think," Eames asked Bobby as she moved to stand next to him at the window.

"I don't think he had any part in this," Bobby said. "And not just because I don't want him to, but because of the way he reacted to the questions about the checks and Jimmy Murphy. His body language as well as his answers doesn't fit that of a guilty person. He seemed genuinely surprised by who was involved and how it all looked on paper. I don't think he paid anyone. I think Jimmy Murphy lied to us. We just need to figure out why."

"I agree," said Ross. "You want another crack at Mr. Murphy," he addressed Goren with that question. Goren nodded. "Okay. I'll have Mr. Murphy put in the other room and you and Eames can question him again."

Ross left, leaving Eames and Goren standing shoulder to shoulder, looking at Trey and his lawyer through the window. Neither one of them spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Eames caught his reflection in the glass and looked up at him.

"Are you okay," she asked him softly. Bobby nodded.

"Does he know yet," Eames asked.

Bobby turned toward her. "I don't know. Amy hasn't told him." Eames looked at him, stunned at what she'd just heard. "That's part of why I stormed out of the visitor's room. She hadn't told either one of us until then." He sighed sadly. "I would have told him by now, but that's Amy's job, not mine." Bobby rubbed his hand through his hair and across the back of his neck. "It was very unnerving, watching you in there with him. It was like I was watching myself." His voice trailed off and he turned once again to the window and the two men beyond.

"I know," Eames said. "He has so many of your mannerisms, it's scary. At times, I thought I was talking to you in there instead of your…Trey." Eames dropped her gaze from Bobby.

"My son, Eames. He's my son. It's okay for you to address him that way. I'm going to have to get used to it."

Just then, the door opened and one of the guards poked his head in. "Mr. Murphy is ready for you in room 2." Bobby nodded at him, and the man left.

Eames held up the files in her hand. "You ready," she asked Bobby.

"Absolutely," replied Goren firmly. "Let's go nail the bastard."

Jimmy Murphy was just as cocky and just as arrogant as the last time they left him in the interrogation room.

"You talked to Mr. Wainwright yet? I know you brought him in. He tell you he paid me?"

"Yes," Goren said simply as he placed the folders and his binder on the table. He pulled out his chair, carried it over next to Murphy, flipped it around and sat on it backwards, hands on the back of the chair, facing James. "He said it was for a pool at his home in the Hampton's. What do you think about that?"

"It wadn't for no pool; it was for me to kill Laura. He was mad at her cuz he thought Laura was having an affair."

"Oh?" Goren cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow in question. "That's not what he told us, is it, Eames?" He looked over at Eames as he said this.

Eames had been leaning against the door. When Goren addressed her, she pushed herself off the door and walked towards the table, laying her files on the table next to Bobby's and pulling out a chair and sitting as she spoke. "No, he said they were, how did he put it? 'Very happy and very much in love.'" She looked at Murphy.

Murphy looked at Eames, a slight flicker of his eyes, then spoke again. "She was pretending she loved him. She was going to divorce him and marry me." He began to get agitated and shift in his chair under Goren's close scrutiny.

"Do I make you nervous," Goren asked him quietly.

"No, I just don't like people so close to me and starin' at me like that," Jimmy said, pulling back from Goren.

"mmmm…" Goren said. "I think you're nervous." He pointed a long finger and waved it in Jimmy's face. "Did you do something wrong, Jimmy? Is that why you're so nervous?" He stood suddenly and shoved the chair out of the way. It crashed against the wall, causing Jimmy to jump at the noise. "I don't think Trey Wainwright paid you to kill his wife. I think you killed Laura because she loved him and not you. If you couldn't have her, no one could, is that it," he questioned, his voice getting louder with every word.

"She was supposed to marry me," Jimmy shouted, jumping up out of his chair and meeting Goren face to face. "Me! She promised me. Then, she met that rich dude and fell in love and married him instead," he snarled. "When I asked her about it in the park, she said she'd never leave him for me."

"So you killed her," Goren asked.

"Yeah, I killed her," Jimmy proclaimed. "She got what she deserved, that bitch!"

Goren grabbed Jimmy's arm and shoved him back down in the chair. "She was no bitch," Goren growled. "You don't ever call a woman a bitch, understand?" Goren stood very close to Jimmy and looked straight down at him in anger as he spoke.

"What's got him all upset," Jimmy questioned Eames.

"Don't worry about him," Eames said nonchalantly. "He'll be alright. He just doesn't like anyone talking bad about women. Let's you and I talk about the money, ok?" She leaned conspiratorially over the table towards him as she spoke, cutting Bobby out of the picture and forcing him to withdraw to the corner to cool off.

Bobby knew what she was doing, and was grateful for it. One more wrong word out of Jimmy's mouth about Laura, and he would not be responsible for his actions. He kept his face neutral as he slowed his breathing and calmed himself down; forcing all his concentration on Jimmy and the next set of questions he knew Eames would be asking the young man.

"So, Jimmy, we know the money Trey Wainwright was paying was for your Dad to install a pool at his home. Why did you lie to us and tell us it was hit money?"

"I didn't lie about the money. It WAS for me to kill Laura," Jimmy insisted defensively.

"No, see, we spoke to Mr. Wainwright just a while ago and he told us all about the house in the Hamptons and how the swimming pool was to be a surprise for Laura." She paused to study Trey's reaction; he kept his chin jutted out and his arms crossed over his chest, his look still insisting that money was for him and him alone. "Do I need to have my partner go call your father and ask _him_ what the money was for?"

That did it; at the mention of his father, Jimmy's countenance crumbled and his arms fell to the desk. "No," he said dejectedly, his head hanging down. "No, you're right. The money was for a pool. I was just saying that because I wanted to have Trey arrested and thrown in jail." His voice became firmer and louder as he continued to speak. "I wanted him to pay for taking Laura away from me. I still loved her but she wouldn't leave him**.** He hurt me when he asked her to marry him, and she hurt me when she said yes and married him instead of me. I wanted them to pay for that. She broke her promise to me and somebody has to pay!"

Bobby had quietly moved over to the door of the interrogation room as Jimmy spoke and he opened the door and motioned for a uniformed officer to enter. "Oh, somebody will pay," Goren spoke. "Jimmy Murphy, you're under arrest for the murder of Laura Wainwright." He pulled Jimmy's hands behind him and cuffed him as he spoke. He then pushed Murphy towards the police officer. "Finish reading him his rights and book him for capital murder." At those last words, Jimmy turned stunned towards Goren. Goren met his gaze with a cold, steely one of his own and shoved the man again.

The officer led Jimmy Murphy away and Eames shut the door. Leaning up against the back of the door once more, she looked at Bobby. "Are you okay," she asked him gently.

Bobby rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, heaved a deep sigh and looked at his partner. "Yeah, I am for now. I'm just glad this is over. I really didn't want to have to formally arrest my son on murder charges."

"Me, either," Eames agreed, giving Bobby a small smile of relief. "Well, I guess I'd better go tell Trey and Mr. Harrington that they are free to go." She turned around to open the door.

"No, Eames," Bobby said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Let me."

"Bobby, I'm not so sure that's such a good idea right now," Eames said, trying to block the doorway.

"Eames," Bobby said forcefully, pulling himself up to his full height and looking down at her.

Eames rarely backed down from him when he got this way, but something in his eyes told her this time could be different. Pursing her lips, she stepped to the side of him, pulling open the interrogation room door as she did so and indicating the opening with a flourish of her arm. Not missing the meaning behind her expression and her gesture, Bobby gave her a look that said he would be speaking with her later as he walked out into the hall ahead of her. "I have to go get the release papers together before I go in there. Mr. Harrington will appreciate it." He strode off down the hall.


	15. Face to Face

_Thanks to ciaddict and TCIF for all their help and encouragement. As always, the usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 15 Face to Face**

Eames watched Bobby stride down the hall and she hurried after him; not to stop him, but to get Amy. Reaching Bobby's desk while he was still gathering up the necessary papers, she halted in front of Amy.

"Come with me," she said sternly.

"What," Amy replied confused.

"I said, come with me," Eames said urgently.

"Why? What is going on," Amy insisted as she stood up.

"We have to talk. Now." Eames took the other woman by the arm and steered her back towards the interrogation rooms, looking around quickly to make sure Bobby did not see what she was doing.

Leading her into the observation room and closing the door behind them, Eames studied Amy. "You've really made of mess of things, you know that?"

Amy crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Eames.

"Have you any idea what this is going to do to him?" Eames waved her arm at the glass, indicating the room where Trey and his lawyer were still waiting.

Amy turned her head and saw Trey and Mr. Harrington.

"What's going to happen to him," she asked Eames.

"What's going to happen to him," Eames echoed. "Aren't you concerned at all about what's going to happen to Bobby?"

Amy continued to look through the glass into the interrogation room. Eames continued, "Amy, do you have any idea what you've just done to my partner?" Amy turned and looked at Eames dumbly.

"His life has been a living hell since I've known him. Do you have any idea what knowing about you and Trey would have meant to him?"

"What do you mean," Amy asked Eames, her curiosity piqued.

"All his life everyone he's ever known and loved has walked out on him. His dad was a womanizing cheater who left for good when he was eleven. His mom checked out mentally years ago and died earlier this year, and his brother has been in and out of rehab for drugs and alcohol for the last 20 years or so. And now you," Eames told her angrily.

"What about me," Amy said indignantly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Not only did you break up with him, you kept a family from him. A family he so desperately needed. A family that would have made all the difference in the world to him. Do you have any idea what his life was like growing up? What it's been like these last 20 years? Do you?"

Amy was sobbing as she looked at the angry pixie in front of her. There was no doubt in her mind that Alexandra Eames was one hell of a strong woman. She hoped like hell she never made her this mad outside of this room.

A sudden movement on the other side of the glass caused both women to look in that direction. Amy found herself frozen in place as Bobby entered the interrogation room. "Wha—what is he doing?" Amy started to panic. "He, he can't go in there."

"Why? Are you afraid he'll tell Trey who he is? Don't you think Trey will figure that out when he sees Bobby," Alex asked her. "You got yourself into this mess by not telling them, what did you think would happen if either one of them ever found out?"

"I don't know," Amy sobbed. "I never thought about it. I—I didn't want to mess up Bobby's life…" Amy's voice trailed off as she watched the three men talking. Eames's eyes narrowed as she caught Amy's gaze in the reflection of the window; she studied Amy nonjudgmentally, sensing there was more Amy needed to say. She almost missed Amy's next statement, it was so quiet.

"I didn't want him to hate me," she said, placing her hand on the glass as if to touch the men on the other side.

Trey looked up when the door to the interrogation room opened and the big man walked through the door. He had always wondered how he would feel in this moment. Right now, he was still reeling from the thought that he could be charged with his wife's murder; seeing his father walk through the door was the last thing he expected, and he simply stared at the man with a stunned expression on his face. The scraping of the chair next to him as Mr. Harrington stood caused him to automatically remember his manners and he stood and faced the man numbly.

"Detective Goren," said Mr. Harrington as he shook the newcomer's hand. "It's good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Me, too, Mr. Harrington," said Bobby, shaking the man's hand. He turned to Trey. "You must be Mr. Wainwright," Bobby said, extending his hand to the young man. Trey was stunned; the detective seemed not to know who he was. He shook the detective's hand and sat back down when Bobby indicated they should.

"Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, I need to tell you that we owe you an apology," Bobby looked frankly at the two men in front of him. Stay neutral, he told himself. There will be time for emotion later. "It seems that Jimmy Murphy is carrying an old grudge against you and your late wife, Mr. Wainwright. He's been angry with her for marrying you instead of him, and thought he could punish you by framing you as his accomplice. We got him to confess that he was lying about the money, so you're free to go. I just need you to look over these papers and make sure all the information is correct, then you and Mr. Harrington will sign them. I'll have my partner, Detective Eames, and Captain Ross sign as well, since they interrogated you, and you'll be free to go."

He watched as Trey and Mr. Harrington read over the papers and signed them. "Your mother is waiting for you outside. Do you have any questions?"

Trey sat quietly and studied the man in front of him; he wondered if he should say anything. Taking a deep breath, he decided now was as good a time as any. "Do you even know who I am," Trey asked him softly. He watched the myriad of emotions play over the older man's face. Will I look like that at his age, he wondered.

Bobby took a calming breath and looked at Mr. Harrington, who was watching them with an amused expression on his face. He turned back to Trey. "I do now."

Trey's eyes widened. This was not the answer he was expecting to hear. "Now?" Bobby nodded. "You mean, she never told you?" Bobby shook his head, noticing as he did so that Mr. Harrington's eyes widened at his response.

"Um, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'll step out for a minute." Mr. Harrington stood picked up the release papers. "These are in order. I take it your captain was the gentleman who handled the interrogation?"

Bobby turned and gave the man a polite smile. "Yes, he was. Thank you."

Mr. Harrington gave Bobby a curt nod as he quietly left the room.

Bobby returned his attention to Trey.

"Oh, boy," said Trey softly.

"Oh, boy is right," Bobby agreed. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said sincerely.

Trey studied the man in front of him, a man who had been so close all his life and yet so far away. "Thank you. I think you really mean that."

Bobby smiled gently. "I don't really know what else I'm supposed to say." He shrugged. "I never expected anything like this to happen."

"Let me guess, she cut and ran?"

Bobby looked at him quizzically. "Amy? Yes, she did. Why do you ask?"

"She always does. She almost got married twice, but couldn't seem to take that last step and go through with it. I think she gets scared. She doesn't want to get hurt."

"I didn't hurt her, Trey," Bobby said softly, pain evident in his brown eyes.

"I know that. Someone did at some point though; I'm just not sure who."

"I think I know, but your mother should be the one to tell you, not me."

"How did you find out," Trey asked curiously.

"My partner figured it out, actually. She had seen some photos of Laura with you in them, then I brought an old photograph taken in Germany the night before Amy left to come back here. She had seen the picture at your mother's home and made the connection. She and my captain had kept the pictures away from me until today, after they were sure about who you were. She placed them in the file I was to go over your mom with. That's when I learned about you. I had no idea why Amy attacked me earlier until I saw the pictures for myself."

"Mom attacked you," Trey asked incredulously.

"Yeah, right out in the middle of the squad room after you were brought in. Charged at me with fire in her eyes and smoke coming out of her ears. Then she called me an ahole and swung her purse at me," Bobby told him. "She swings a mean purse, too."

Trey stifled at laugh at the image of his angry mother charging a detective. "That sounds like Mom when she's mad. You learn quickly not to get on her bad side," he said with a smile.

"I'll bet," Bobby agreed. "How did you find out?"

"I've been asking Mom for years. After Hudson was born, I found a scrapbook in a closet with pictures and newspaper articles about you in it. One look at the pictures and I knew. I had planned on looking you up, but then Laura got so sick with her depression and all, and well, now all this."

The two men looked at each other quietly for a few minutes.

"So, what do we do now," Bobby asked him. "I've missed so much; we can't go back and redo the past…" his voice trailed off as Trey's expression began to change. Bobby rubbed the back of his neck and reached into his jacket pocket. "Look, you need to get out of here and go home. Take my card; call me if you feel like it. No pressure, ok?"

Trey took a deep breath, but Bobby could see the anger blazing in his eyes. "Thank you. I will. If you'll excuse me, I need to find my mother." Before Bobby could stand and tell him good-bye, Trey took the card and was out of the room.

Bobby sat for a minute, taking in all that had transpired. The sound of a door slamming behind him had him on his feet and in the hall in a matter of seconds.

Trey had exited into the hall to find Mr. Harrington and Captain Ross waiting for him. Ross shook his hand and apologized, then explained that his mother was in the observation room with Detective Eames. Flinging the door open with a powerful shove, Trey charged into the room, eyes blazing, words aimed at his mother.

"How dare you," he hollered at her. "You knew!"

Amy whirled away from the glass to face her angry son, arms raised in defense. "Trey, Trey, calm down. You have to understand—"

"Understand? He was here all this time and you never told me? I asked you, over and over to tell me about my dad, who he was, where he lived, and you never told me!" He advanced towards her menacingly and Eames stepped in between. Trey stopped short of bumping into her, but continued his tirade towards his mother. "You KNEW he was here, didn't you?"

Amy looked away, her head dipped towards the floor, shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Mom," Trey yelled painfully, tears now streaming down his face. "All this time! All this time I could have known him, and you never told me. He – he seems nice, Mom. Why? Why?" Trey was sobbing now, his shoulders heaving. Eames moved away, noticing Bobby standing in the doorway. Behind him, Ross was discretely taking in the scene, ready to step in if need be.

Trey turned and looked at Bobby standing in the door. "She knew all this time. Can you believe that," he asked Bobby. "Why would she do that?"

Before Bobby could answer, Amy moved forward to place her hand on Trey's shoulder. "Don't touch me," he yelled, whirling around to swipe her hand away. In his angry and hurt state, he misjudged and his arm smacked his mother in the jaw, knocking Amy back into Eames, who was able to brace herself and keep the two of them from falling on the floor.

Amy cried out in shock and pain from being hit. Bobby moved to grab Trey. "Let go of me," Trey yelled at him, twisting out of his grasp and moving away. "You know I didn't mean to hit her, it was an accident!" Trey turned away, muttering under his breath, "Even if she did deserve it."

"What did you say," Bobby roared, turning Trey around to look him in the face. "Don't you dare talk about your mother that way."

"Or you'll what? Punish me? A little late to be starting that now, isn't it?"

"Go home, Trey," Bobby said in a quiet but firm voice that scared Trey. "Go home and cool off. We'll talk about this later." Trey stormed out of the room towards the elevators. Mr. Harrington hurried after him, calling after Trey to wait for him and he would drive him home.

Ross suddenly appeared at Bobby's elbow, ice pack in hand, grim expression on his face. "I trust we've had enough outbursts for today?"

"Yes, sir," Bobby replied, taking the ice pack from his captain and handing it to Amy. "Thank you."

Eames had squatted down next to Amy, who had sat down on the floor, and was examining her face. "Are you going to be alright," she asked the woman.

Amy nodded.

"Let me get my purse and your things and I'll give you a ride home," Eames told her. Amy nodded again and pressed the ice pack up to the side of her face. Eames slipped past Bobby and left the room, Ross following her.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said. He felt helpless and to blame, but wasn't quite sure why.

Amy smiled at him feebly. "Me, too. This wasn't quite how I imagined all this, or how I expected it to turn out."

"Well, what did you expect us to say, Amy? 'Oh, cool! This will be fun!' I don't think so," Bobby told her, his emotions barely restrained. "Look, this is neither the time nor the place, but we will talk. You have an awful lot of explaining to do, to both of us." Bobby turned on his heel and left Amy sitting on the floor of the observation room, heartbroken and full of regret once again.

Later that day, after everything had settled down and the squad room was uncharacteristically empty, Bobby sat down at his desk and sighed. He reached over and took the photograph from off of Eames's desk and studied it. His long index finger gently touched the photo and he moved it across Amy's face, almost as though caressing her. Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought back over everything that had transpired throughout the course of the day. _Oh, Amy. What have I done…._

Across town, alone in her Upper East Side townhome, Amy Wainwright lay across her bed, a photo in a simple gold frame clutched in her hands. She, too, studied the photograph, and lovingly caressed one of its subjects. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the shock and betrayal on the face of someone she thought she would never see again. She recalled the meeting between Bobby and his son in the interrogation room, an encounter she had never expected to play out the way it had. The tears began to run down her cheeks and her breath became sobs of anguish. _Oh, Bobby. What have I done..._


	16. What Do I Do, Eames?

_Thanks to TCIF and ciaddict for their help. Once again, the usual disclaimers apply._

**Chapter 16 What Should I Do, Eames?**

**Wednesday, July 24, Major Case Squad Room**

The rumor mill ran rampant the next day. Stories that a police detective was assaulted became mixed in with Bobby Goren's love child being charged with murder and Jimmy Murphy going free after being accused of burying dead bodies underneath the swimming pools he and his father installed in the Hamptons. By the end of the day, Captain Ross had had enough. Excusing Goren and Eames to leave early after a brief discussion in his office, Ross called an unusual and unexpected departmental meeting.

"If you'll all settle down and get quiet, we can finish this quickly and you can all go home early." He cleared his throat and swept his gaze over the men and women who made up his unit. "Some of you have been passing around a great deal of misinformation today, so I thought I'd clear things up."

"Number one: Jimmy Murphy did NOT go free yesterday. This morning, he was formally charged with the brutal murder of Laura Wainwright; the DA is seriously considering seeking the death penalty on this one, so be prepared. Also, there is NO evidence that he ever killed anybody else, or that there are any dead bodies under any pools in The Hamptons that he and his father installed.

"Number two: Trey Wainwright was NOT charged with murder, or with conspiracy to commit murder, or with hiring a hit man. Trey Wainwright was not charged with anything." At the mention of Trey's name, several detectives shuffled around and began to whisper to each other. Ross looked pointedly at them and spoke. "Do you have a problem with that, Detective?"

"Well, uh, sir…" one of the men looked at the floor and continued. "We, uh, we heard that Trey Wainwright is Goren's kid. Is that true?" The man looked up at Captain Ross as he asked the question.

Ross let out a sigh. "I have his permission to let you all know the truth. Yes, Trey Wainwright IS Detective Goren's son. His mother, Amy Wainwright is the one who assaulted Goren in the squad room." He paused here, wondering if he should continue or wait and let Bobby tell them on his own. For the sake of his sanity and that of his best detective team's, he decided to tell his unit the truth. "Detective Goren had no prior knowledge of Trey Wainwright's existence before yesterday morning. Goren is going through a difficult adjustment period right now and needs us all to be supportive and give him some space.

"I'm sure you will be hearing lots of rumor and innuendo for a while, that's why I called this meeting and explained the situation to you. I need every one of you to squash the rumors and the gossip by correcting the misinformation and setting the record straight. That will be all, thank you. You are dismissed." Captain Ross retreated to the safety of his office, where he could watch the men and women of his unit as they congregated together in small groups, discussing the meeting and talking things out between themselves.

He acknowledged the quiet knock on the door a few minutes later with a soft, "come in." He was not surprised to see Detective Mike Logan enter his office and shut the door behind him.

"Captain, may I have a word?" Logan watched Ross and continued when his captain nodded. "What you did for Bobby, thank you." Ross looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question. "I mean it, Captain. That was very nice of you. I'm sure Bobby will appreciate knowing that you have his back in this."

"I'm a father, too, Logan," Ross reminded him. "I don't enjoy being divorced and not getting to see my boys every day. I can't imagine what Goren is going through right now, knowing that he missed twenty-five years that he could have been a father and had a family."

"It would have meant everything to him," Logan said.

No one could imagine what Bobby was going through; even Bobby couldn't have imagined what he was going through. Never in a million years would he have ever expected someone to come up to him and say, "Hi, remember me? I got pregnant by you and never told you. Here's your grown child and your grandchild." It was beyond his comprehension that such a thing could happen to him.

He was so lost in his thoughts and disbelief that he failed to notice the slight woman that slid onto the bar stool next to him and ordered a drink. After being excused early by Captain Ross, Bobby had headed for a nearby bar, a favorite place of his that was within walking distance, but not one frequented by many of the other cops. The last thing he needed right now was to be hounded by other cops.

A soft touch on his arm jolted him out of his reverie and he looked over to see who it was. "Eames," he said, stunned that she would even be here.

"Hi, Bobby. Are you okay?"

Bobby returned to staring into his glass and sunk even lower into himself as he contemplated his answer. "I don't know," he said, downing the rest of his drink in one swallow and signaling the bartender for another. "Ask me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow may not come for you if you keep this up," she said, taking in the 5 other tumblers sitting in front of him on the bar. She was tempted to ask him if he was sure he should be doing this, but knew he could explode in her direction, so she sat quietly, just keeping him company and slowly sipping her own drink.

He liked that, having her next to him, keeping him company. Not judging him or pestering him with questions, but just sitting there, accepting that he needed to drink and brood and allowing him to do it. He liked knowing that she would take him home if need be, but he did wonder how she would manage to get him out to her car, as he was starting to feel the effects of the six whiskeys he'd had in the last hour. He really needn't have worried about that as he was soon not feeling like worrying about much of anything.

"Eames," he said, turning to look at her and swaying slightly. "I don't feel so good." He slurred his words as he spoke. "I think I need to go home. Will you take me home, Eames, please?"

She patted his arm. "Of course I will. Why do you think I came here?" She held her hand out and he looked at her confused. "Your wallet, Bobby. I need your wallet to pay your bill."

"Oh, yeah," Bobby said. As he reached back for his wallet, he began to slide off the barstool and he leaned forward to stop himself. "I drank too much, didn't I, Alex," he asked, uncharacteristically calling her by her first name. The last time he did that, he was at least this drunk and way too much for someone of her size to handle getting home.

"Yes, you did, Bobby, and you'll be paying for it tomorrow." She didn't doubt for a minute that Bobby Goren would have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

Bobby regained his balance on the stool and reached back for his wallet once more. Again, he began to slide off the barstool and would have hit the floor if not for the man behind him. "Whoa, take it easy there, big guy," came the deep voice of Mike Logan, who easily caught Bobby and kept him upright on the stool.

Eames spun her head around and looked at him, smiling in relief at the man who had just come to her rescue. "Am I glad to see you, Mike. He's had a little too much to drink." Eames took Bobby's wallet from him and paid the bartender.

"Ya think," she heard Mike ask softly as he struggled to keep Bobby from sliding off the stool yet again. "Let's get you home, man, okay?"

Bobby looked up at the man who was supporting him and smiled, big and goofy. "Hey, Mikey," he said rather loudly. "Did you come here to be mad, too? You want a drink? We can toast to lying women." He turned his head unsteadily toward Eames and furrowed his brow. "But not to you, Eames, cuz you don't lie. How about it, Mike? What do you say?"

"I say, we get you home," replied Mike, hauling Bobby to his feet and draping the drunken man's arm over his shoulder. "You can tell me all about it on the way out."

Eames followed after the two men, grateful yet again that Captain Deakins had fought like heck to bring Mike Logan over to Major Case three years ago.

**Thursday, July 25, MCS Squad Room**

Eames looked over at her partner's empty desk and smirked to herself. Bobby had not been happy when she called to check on him at 7 that morning, complaining of both a headache and a stomach ache. Eames had laughed at him and told him he deserved that for having downed six whiskey doubles on an empty stomach the night before. He protested when she told him Mike would be stopping by to check on him, then promised she would let Captain Ross know that he would be late to work, if he made it in at all.

She looked up from her work about thirty minutes later when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of her. "How is he, Mike," she asked the detective as she lifted the lid off the cup and inhaled the aroma deeply.

"Grouchy as all get out. Like a hung over grizzly bear." Logan and Eames shared an understanding smile. "He chewed me out for letting him get that drunk last night. I had to remind him that I wasn't the one who drove him there and bought him all those drinks." Logan chuckled. "He looked like hell, Eames. I told him to take a shower and get something to eat and call you later."

"Thanks, Mike," Alex told him. "And thanks for the coffee, too." She took a sip. "Mmm, it's wonderful. You'll have to tell Bobby where you got it."

Logan smiled and waved her off as he turned toward his desk. His partner was already there, and she looked up at him with a question on her lips and a file folder in her hand. The typical workday had begun.

It was noon when Alex realized she hadn't heard anything from Bobby. She reached for her cell phone to call him when it rang; startled she looked at the number on the screen. It wasn't Bobby's; nor was it a number she recognized. "Eames," she answered.

"Is this Detective Eames," a woman's voice questioned uncertainly.

"Yes, it is," Eames answered curiously.

"Detective Eames, this is Amy Wainwright. I hope you don't mind my calling you," she spoke in a rush. "I've been trying to reach Bobby all day and I just keep getting his voice mail. Is – is he all right? I mean, well, after the other day….I wasn't sure…..Oh, gee….I'm really sorry about what happened," Amy finished earnestly.

Alex heard the earnestness in Amy's voice and surprised herself by accepting Amy's apology. "It's okay, Mrs. Wainwright. We were all caught a little off guard. I haven't heard from Bobby since I checked in on him early this morning. I was just about to call him."

"If you find him, could you let him know I'm trying to reach him, please? We need to talk," Amy said.

"I'll pass on the message, but you need to understand that he may not call you back right away. When he gets like this, he doesn't let anybody in, not even me and I'm his partner. Give him some time, okay," Eames advised Amy. "Trust me, it's the best way."

"Thank you, Detective Eames," Amy replied.

"Please, call me Alex. Now that Bobby knows about you and Trey, I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"Oh, I hope so. Trey's a wonderful young man and I really want Bobby to get to know him. I have to go now. Thank you again," Amy said.

"You're welcome. Goodbye," Alex ended the call, then immediately hit Bobby's speed dial number.

When the phone went to voice mail for the third time, Eames stood and grabbed her purse, shoving her phone in it and heading for Ross's office. She knocked on the door and entered when he answered.

"Bobby's not answering his cell phone," she began. "I need to go look for him."

Ross looked up from his computer and nodded in agreement. "Keep me posted. Let me know if you need any help."

"Will do. Thanks, Captain."

When Eames arrived at Bobby's apartment, she noticed his Malibu parked in its usual place. As she made her way into the complex, she noticed no lights on in Bobby's window. Eames made her way up the stairs and down the hallway to Bobby's door. She paused and listened at the door as she pulled out her key to Bobby's apartment. Remembering the last time she entered Bobby's apartment without knocking, she gave two sharp raps before she unlocked the door.

She called out his name as she slowly entered the darkened living room. She moved to the window and opened the curtains, startling slightly when she heard her name spoken softly. Turning, she saw Bobby sitting at the kitchen table.

"You look like hell, Bobby." She took in his disheveled appearance; he hadn't shaved and his clothes looked slept in. Thankfully there was a glass of iced tea next to him on the table; at least he wasn't still drinking.

Bobby looked up at Eames. "How did you get in here?"

"I have a key, Bobby," Eames told him, holding up her key ring and dangling the keys. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at pictures." He waved his hand in a graceful arc and Eames noticed the box and all the pictures spread out on the table. She moved over for a closer look.

"Were all these taken in Germany," she asked. Alex hoped she could get Bobby to talk and maybe bring him out of this funk he was in. "Is this Amy," Alex was holding the one of Amy in the PX, and she held it out for Bobby to see.

Bobby sighed as he took the picture from Alex. "Yeah; she was at work at the PX and her friend Susan surprised her by showing up there with a camera. She hates that picture, but I love it. The expression on her face is so…wonderful…so open and honest. Still makes me smile when I look at it." Eames noticed the small smile playing on his lips as he studied the old photo.

"She called me earlier," Alex said softly, watching Bobby carefully.

He looked up at her, but didn't speak.

"You're not answering your cell phone," Alex mentioned. "Did you turn it off?"

"Yeah," Bobby said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I, uh, I turned it off this morning after Logan came by. I didn't want to be bothered." He looked down at his hands.

"She was worried about you. I was, too," Alex said. Bobby looked up at her suddenly, a confused expression on his face. "Logan told you to call me after you'd taken your shower and eaten breakfast…" she let that last sentence hang in the air.

Bobby hung his head, chagrined. "I'm sorry, Alex. I ate, but never showered; then I saw this box on the coffee table and started looking through the photos again…I must've lost track of the time."

"When did you eat last," Alex asked him as she moved into the kitchen.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe 8:30."

"Are you hungry? It is lunchtime, you know." Alex began to explore the inside of Bobby's refrigerator.

"Yeah, I could eat something."

"Good. Get dressed," Alex ordered, straightening up and shutting the refrigerator door.

"Why?"

"There's nothing in here to eat, and I'm starving," she told him matter-of-factly. "Oh, and you're buying."

"Yes, ma'am," Bobby replied, standing up from the table. He stopped next to her on his way to his room and looked down at her, a grateful expression on his face. "Thank you," he said softly. He left a stunned Eames standing in the doorway to his kitchen as he moved off down the hall.


	17. Taking Her Advice

_Thanks to my betas for their help and my fans for their feedback. The usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 17 Taking Her Advice**

Bobby paid for their order while Alex picked out a table. She hadn't been able decide between Chinese or the new sandwich shop a few blocks from his apartment and had left the final decision to him. He said a sandwich seemed like it would better suit his stomach than Chinese, so off they went.

They had decided to walk since the day was gorgeous; not too hot and the sky was a high, cloudless blue, full of hope and possibility. Out of respect for the problems she was sure were roiling around in Bobby's always busy brain, Alex spoke little as they walked, recognizing that Bobby would prefer companionable silence to talking.

Upon reaching the shop, they discovered the line was out the door and stretching down the sidewalk. Alex surreptitiously glanced at her watch.

"We don't have to eat here if you don't have enough time," Bobby said quietly into her right ear. She jumped slightly, feeling guilty that she'd been caught.

"No, it's okay, I have time," Alex replied.

The man in front of them had heard their exchange and commented over his shoulder to them that the line moved very quickly here and they should only have to wait about ten minutes to get to the counter. Bobby thanked the man and resumed his thoughtful silence.

The man was right, and the two detectives soon found themselves at the counter facing a menu of the most incredible sounding sandwiches they had seen in a long time. A huge variety of meats, vegetables, breads and sauces awaited their decisions. Alex chose a Reuben, saying she hadn't had a decent one in a long time. Bobby went with a simpler turkey club, hoping it would be fairly gentle on his still unsettled stomach. Both chose iced tea with lemon.

The young lady behind the counter graced Bobby with a huge smile and several flirting glances as they ordered. Alex watched wryly out of the corner of her eyes as Bobby graced the cute cashier with one of his killer smiles. She grabbed their drinks and headed off in search of a table.

Bobby soon joined her with the number 75 on a square piece of yellow paper stuck on a pole with a stand on the bottom of it. Placing it on the table so that it could be seen from the kitchen, he took the chair across from Alex and sat down. They both swept their gazes around the seating area, taking in the booths, various sizes of tables and the posters of scenes from America's national parks adorning the walls.

"This seems like a nice place," Alex commented.

Bobby nodded in agreement. "It must be good, too. Look at the line of people here."

"This tea is fabulous," Alex gushed, having just sampled her drink.

Bobby raised his glass to his mouth and took a few sips. "Mmm-hmm," he agreed with her as he found himself suddenly draining half his glass. "Guess I must've been thirstier than I thought," he said sheepishly.

Suddenly, a young man in a white shirt and black pants materialized at his elbow. "Would you like some more tea, sir?" Bobby turned to his left and noticed the server was holding a pitcher of tea in one hand and a small bowl of lemon wedges in his other. "We have endless iced tea service here," the young man told him. Bobby gratefully held out his glass for a refill. The young man slipped the bowl of lemons onto the table and silently moved off.

"Wow," Alex commented. "Free tea refills at your table? This place is tops in my book."

Bobby gave her a small smile, knowing how she felt about iced tea. "I'll have to remember that the next time I need a favor from you," he told her mischievously.

Alex cocked an eyebrow at him. "You mean you would bribe me by bringing me here? I'd probably do anything you asked!"

They laughed. It was nice to hear him laugh, even if it was short and soft. He needed to laugh more, Alex thought. It lit up his face and made his eyes dance and gave her the impression that all was right in Bobby's world, if even for a few all too brief seconds.

"Bobby, Amy would like for you to call her back," Alex told him gently. She watched his face and the emotions that played over it. "If it helps any, she apologized to me for her behavior the other day." Alex heard Bobby's sharp intake of breath and waited. When he refused to talk and looked down at his hands resting on the table, she went on. "I told her it was understandable, since we were all caught so off guard by everything. She really wants you to get to know Trey." Alex leaned forward to catch his eye before she continued. "She was also concerned about you."

Bobby lifted his head at her last remark, uncertain of the truth behind Amy's comment to Alex. Alex nodded at Bobby. "Will you call her?" Bobby just looked at Alex. "Today? Please, Bobby," Alex pleaded.

Bobby sighed as he nodded at Alex. "Thank you," Alex said as she straightened up. "Our food's here," she said next, noticing the server standing by their table. "Let's eat."

After enjoying their sandwiches for a few minutes, Bobby surprised Alex by asking her, "Eames, what would you do if you got the same news I did?"

Alex chewed her food thoughtfully and carefully considered his question and her answer. She took another sip of tea before she replied, "I don't know. I'd be mad, of course. I mean, who wouldn't be, being cheated out of seeing your own child grow up. I'd be sad about all the milestones I'd missed. And, I think I'd be very angry at the person who didn't tell me. Is that about right?" She looked pointedly at Bobby, who had been nodding in agreement at everything she'd just said.

He set down his sandwich and looked at her. "So, my having all those feeling is perfectly normal?" Alex nodded. "Why is it so hard to sort them all out, Eames? I mean, one minute I feel like crying and the next minute yelling, and all the time I just want to find Amy and wring her neck!" He became embarrassed at his sudden outburst and looked down at the table, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck in that characteristic gesture that Alex knew so well.

"I don't know, Bobby. If I knew how to make it easy, I'd be rich. Talking to Amy would be a good place to start, but only if you promise me I won't have to arrest you for wringing her neck." She smiled at him.

Bobby looked up at her and gave her a crooked half-smile back. "I promise, Eames." He changed the subject. "My sandwich is wonderful; I'm glad we came here."

"Me, too, Bobby," replied Alex warmly. "Me, too. Hey, you wanna come back to the office with me after lunch? I've got some reports I need you to sign, plus Logan and Ross are worried about you, too."

"I'd need to clean up first, but yeah, sure, I'll stop by," Bobby told her. Alex smiled at him again; it was good to see him in much better shape than how she had left him last night.

The rest of their lunch passed in companionable conversation; they discussed the paperwork Eames had been doing that morning plus a couple of their cases. After they were done, Eames grabbed her wallet and threw several dollars on the table for a tip. When Bobby began to complain, she stopped him. "You bought lunch, I'll cover the tip."

"Fine, Eames, but leave the guy a little bit more," Bobby implored her. "He did a great job keeping us supplied with iced tea."

Alex shot him one of her infamous looks. He just laughed at her as she threw another dollar down on the table. "Is that better?"

Bobby continued to chuckle at her as he steered her out of the shop ahead of him.

When they reached Bobby's apartment building, Alex stopped. Bobby turned and looked at her. "You coming up?"

"No," said Alex. "You have a phone call you need to make. Besides, I'm having dinner at my sister's tonight; today is my nephew's birthday and he specifically invited me over for pizza and ice cream."

"Okay, I'll see you in about an hour. Thanks for getting me out for lunch; I really enjoyed it."

Once again, Alex was surprised by Bobby's gratitude and his willingness to show his appreciation towards her. Whatever was causing this, she hope it stuck around for a long time.

Bobby entered his apartment and went straight to the kitchen table. Picking up his favorite picture of Amy, he moved to the couch and sat down. He felt like he needed to be sitting down for this phone call. Slowly, he pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. Taking a deep breath and summoning up every ounce of courage he could find, he thumbed a few buttons on the phone and put it to his ear. As he listened to it ring, he realized he was nervous; he hadn't felt this nervous about calling a girl since high school.

"Hello?" Amy's voice came through the phone and into his ear, sending shockwaves of emotion coursing through his veins. After all this time, she still had a powerful effect on him.

"A—Amy," Bobby stuttered.

"Bobby," Amy asked in return.

"Yes."

"Oh, Bobby; I was hoping you'd call. Are you alright? When you weren't answering your phone earlier, I called Detective Ea—I mean, Alex, and she said you weren't feeling well?"

"I'm better now," Bobby answered; his heart was pounding. Why in the world was he like this? He was glad he had decided to sit down. He looked at the photo as he talked to her. "Eames said you wanted me to call you. Are you okay?"

"I think so; at least for now. I wanted to apologize for lashing out at you the other day, in the squad room? I'm sorry; I was wrong. You had no way of knowing and I realize now that you didn't know and you weren't doing it to be mean, you were just doing your job, like you're supposed to do and had no idea who was involved and I over-reacted and … oh, dear, I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm sorry, I'm just nervous, I guess…."

Bobby smiled, in spite of himself. She was just as he remembered her being all those years ago. It was hard to stay mad at those memories. "Yes, you were wrong," Bobby told her seriously. "Thank you for apologizing, I appreciate it. I'm sorry, too. If I'd had any idea who Trey was, I would have gone to you first and the whole thing would have been handled very differently."

Amy was quiet on her end. Bobby could hear her breathing; he waited to see if she would speak. Finally, he broke the silence with a question he used to ask her all the time when they were dating. "What are you thinking?"

Now it was Amy who found she was smiling in spite of the situation. Damn him! She never could stay mad at him for long when he asked her that. "I'm thinking how much we all have missed. I'm thinking all the 'what if' questions I'd been asking myself for the last 25 years. I'm also thinking we need to continue this conversation face to face."

"I agree," Bobby said matter-of-factly.

"Good. Are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Tonight," Bobby asked her; she had caught him off guard with her forwardness, but he was willing to give her a chance to explain herself.

"Tonight's as good as any. We have a lot of catching up to do; we might as well get started as soon as possible. Can you come over?"

"Will Trey be there," Bobby asked. He wasn't sure he was ready to face his son again just yet.

"Not necessarily. If you're not ready to see him again, I can ask him to stay home. I'm sure he'll understand."

"We had left things up in the air, and then he got mad at you and I stepped in and, well…"Bobby paused, took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not sure he wants to see me right now."

"Hmmm. You have a point there. I'd be hesitant, too. Knowing Trey like I do, though, I think he's more unsure if you want to see him right now than the other way around."

"What should I do, then," Bobby asked her.

"I know you gave him your card; let him call you. He and I still haven't talked things out yet; he'll come to me when he's ready. He likes to sort all of his thoughts out first. Once we clear the air between us, I'll encourage him to call you. So, can you be here around 5?"

"I could probably be there by 4, if that's okay with you. I have to stop by the squad room first and finish up a few things with Eames, and then I can head over to your place," Bobby told her.

"Do you know where I live," Amy asked him next.

"Yes. I got called away the day Eames stopped by your home during the investigation. We were sitting outside your home when I got a phone call about a family emergency. I think I can find it again."

"4:00 is fine. I'll see you then. Bye, Bobby," Amy said softly.

"Bye, Amy," Bobby answered her. As he hung up the phone, he realized that he had been staring at her photograph during their entire conversation. He checked the time on his watch and realized he had better get moving if he was to shower, stop by the squad room and be at Amy's by 4.


	18. Awkward Moments

**Chapter 18 Awkward Moments**

**Major Case Squad Room, same day**

The Bobby Goren that entered the squad room an hour later was a far cry from the Bobby Goren that had eaten lunch with Alex Eames. This Bobby Goren had showered, shaved completely, and put on a suit, complete with tie and silver tie clip.

As he exited the elevator and entered the squad room, he drew the glances and stares of his co-workers. Mike Logan noticed his partner's stare, and turned to see what she was looking at.

"Wow, Goren. You clean up good," Mike said appreciatively. "What's the occasion, hot date?"

Goren just cocked an eyebrow at him and continued on towards his desk. Mike chuckled and turned back to his own work.

Alex had looked up at Logan's comment and was smiling at Bobby when he reached his desk. "You DO look nice, Bobby. I see you shaved, even. Impressive." She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "Did you call Amy? Are you meeting her, is that the reason for the suit?"

Bobby smiled and nodded at her as he sat down at his desk. He laid his binder off to the side. "As soon as I get finished here. Are these the papers you need me to sign?" He indicated the folders in a neat stack in the center of his desk with a wave of his hand.

"Mmm-hmm," Alex answered him as she turned her attention back to the stack in front of her.

Working in tandem, the two made short work of the task in front of them and soon found both desks free of paperwork. Bobby looked up at Eames and exhaled loudly, a look of satisfaction on his face. He reached his arms above his head and stretched. Alex smiled at him, taking in his best suit, bright blue shirt, and perfect tie choice. "Hoping to make a good impression?"

Bobby gave her a bashful look. "Well, it's been 25 years, Eames. Can't hurt to put my best foot forward now, can it?" He stood and looked at his watch. "I have to go. I agreed to get over to her place by 4. Do you need me for anything else?"

"No, go on, get out of here," Eames said, waving towards the elevators. "Anything else will wait until tomorrow. Call me later?"

He smiled and nodded at her, then headed towards the elevator.

**Wainwright House, Upper East Side**

Bobby pulled up outside Amy's stately brownstone at precisely 4 pm. He turned off the engine, stuck the keys in his pocket, and suddenly found himself frozen in his seat, unable to move. What would she say to him after all these years? Would she have a bruise on her face or would she have covered it up with make-up? Would Trey be there? Would her parents be there? What if he said the wrong thing, would he make it worse? Could it get any worse? Of course it could, she could have invited him here to tell him it was all a mistake and they never wanted to see him ever again, and then he would finally and completely be all alone in this world. Eames didn't count; partners at work don't count, he told himself.

Count. Does Amy count? Does Trey count? Does finding out you suddenly have a family you never knew about count? Family. It would be nice to have a family. A real family, he corrected himself. One with normal people in it having normal lives doing normal things. Not like his family; no one in his family had ever done anything normal. His mom was a paranoid schizophrenic who had died of lymphoma, his brother was an alcoholic drug addict and his dad was a physically abusive, womanizing drunk. He was a nut job loner on the police force. Not exactly family of the year award-winning material, he scoffed to himself.

He thought he saw the curtains in the front window flutter slightly, and started when he realized he'd been sitting there, staring into space and getting all worked up over what could turn out to be a bunch of nothing for the last ten minutes that he was now late. Damn it, he said to himself. He hated to be late, especially when he had promised to be somewhere at a certain time. Well, better late than never, he thought next. Besides, it's been twenty-five years already, what's another ten minutes?

He opened the car door and got out. Standing up straight and tall, he adjusted his jacket, checked his tie and the placement of his tie clip, locked his car and took a deep breath. Then he turned, and began to make his way around the front of his car and towards the steps up to Amy's front door.

Amy had seen his car drive up from where she watched out the window. She nervously wrung her hands as she watched him carefully parallel park the Malibu and turn off the engine. She saw him sit there in the driver's seat as though he were frozen. She wondered what was going on inside his head. Were his thoughts about this as jumbled as hers were? Was he curious at all about the last twenty-five years? Had he finally guessed the real reason why she had never told him about the baby? Would he even care? Was he really here to listen to her side of the story, or to tell her he never wanted to see her or her family again? Would he accuse her of lying to him yet again, of making up the story about him being Trey's father just to get him back in her life again? Stop it, Amy, she admonished herself. Goodness, you're as nervous as a school girl on a first date with the captain of the football team.

She dropped the curtain and moved back from the window when she realized he was looking in her direction. Mustn't appear too anxious, she reminded herself. We don't want to seem desperate. But, she was desperate. She desperately wanted Bobby back in her life, in Trey's life, in Hudson's life. Watching Trey lose Laura had made her realize what losing Bobby had done for her; now that she had "found" him, she didn't want to lose him again.

Amy forced herself to sit on the couch when she saw Bobby approaching the front door. Let Mrs. Mitchell get it, she coached herself. Be proper. She waited for the doorbell to ring.

Bobby walked up the steps to Amy's home. He raised his arm to ring the doorbell, then, thinking about the last time he was here, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he turned it off; he didn't need anything interrupting this visit. Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Amy jumped when the doorbell actually rang; she pressed her hand to her chest at her reaction. She could not believe she was so nervous. It was just Bobby, after all. But that was the problem, it was Bobby. The Bobby whom she hadn't seen in twenty-five years. The Bobby who just found out the other day that he was not only a father, but a grandfather. The Bobby whom she yelled at and hit with her purse in the middle of his workplace. The same Bobby she once dated and fell in love with. _That_ Bobby.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears she could hardly hear as she watched Mrs. Mitchell walk to the front door. Her palms began to sweat as she watched Mrs. Mitchell open the front door and speak to the man on the other side. She sat as still as a statue as she listened to Mrs. Mitchell greeting Bobby.

"Hello," said Mrs. Mitchell in her graceful soft voice. "You must be Mr. Goren. Please do come in." In her mind, Amy could see Mrs. Mitchell opening the door completely, stepping to the side as she did so, and waving Bobby into the entryway. "I'm Mrs. Mitchell, the housekeeper. It is so nice to meet you. Amy is waiting for you in the sitting room. If you'll follow me, please?"

Amy heard Bobby's murmured response then the closing of the door, followed by the sound of Mrs. Mitchell's no nonsense shoes on the hardwood floor, along with Bobby's heavier steps. As the sounds grew louder, Amy took a deep breath, and stood, rubbing her sweaty hands down her skirt in an effort to both dry her hands and straighten her skirt at the same time.

"Amy, Mr. Goren is here to see you," Mrs. Mitchell announced from the sitting room doorway. "Would you like me to bring some coffee?"

Amy looked questioningly at Bobby, who nodded. "Yes, please," Amy said to Mrs. Mitchell. "Thank you."

Mrs. Mitchell nodded and left quietly. Bobby continued to stand in the doorway to the sitting room, looking very lost. Amy continued to stand next to the wing chair, looking very nervous.

"Hi," she said finally.

"Hi," Bobby said back timidly. "You look great."

"Thanks," Amy replied. "You do, too." She stood there for a moment, and then seemed to come to her senses. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? Please, come in and sit down." She gestured to the elegant sofa.

Bobby sat stiffly on the sofa and Amy returned to the comfort and familiarity of her favorite wing chair. Neither one spoke; Bobby looked around the room, taking in the tall windows, the elegant draperies, the shelves lined with books and knickknacks and photographs, his gaze finally landing on the small round table, the same one that had caught Eames's eye the day she was here to question Amy. He did a double-take as he thought he recognized one of the photographs, and he rose and crossed the room, taking it in his hands in seamless motion. Amy was once again taken aback by his grace and fluidity; it reminded her of the night they met at the USO twenty-five years ago.

"I thought I recognized this picture," Bobby said, turning his head to look at Amy. "You've had it out all this time?"

"Yes, it's my favorite. Although after all the trouble it's caused me lately, I think I may put it away somewhere," she replied ruefully.

Bobby carefully replaced the photograph onto the table and moved back towards the sofa. Stopping in front of Amy, he looked at her and said, "I brought something. I hope you don't mind."

"A present?"

"Not really," Bobby said mysteriously as he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a picture. Deliberately keeping the back of the photograph facing her, he said teasingly, "It's my favorite picture of you."

"Uh, oh, I don't like the look on your face. Which one is it?"

"No, you have to guess."

"Guess? I'm supposed to remember one photograph of me from twenty-five years ago that's been your favorite all this time?" She sighed as Bobby just stood there and nodded at her with a mischievous smile on his face. "Is it one you took?" He shook his head. "Is it one my parents took?" He shook his head again. Amy looked at him suspiciously. "NO! It can't be the one Susan took!" Bobby nodded and grinned even wider. Amy gasped at him. "You can't be serious! That horrid picture of me in the PX is your favorite?"

Bobby held out the picture and Amy took it gently from his fingers. "Oh, my god," she breathed, looking at the photograph. "I remember that day. Susan had just gotten the camera for her birthday. It was one of those really fancy Nikons with all the lenses and attachments and features. She couldn't wait to try it out on everyone." She sank back into the chair and stared at the picture some more. "Wow, does this bring back memories. I can't believe you saved it after all these years." She looked at him in awe.

He moved to the sofa and sat back down, placing his arms on his legs and leaning in towards her. "I thought you'd enjoy seeing that picture again." He reached out his arm and held his hand open to take the photo back from her. Her fingers brushed lightly against his and sent frissons of electricity shooting up his arm. He exercised every bit of self-control not to react to her touch, noticing Amy doing the same out of the corner of his eye. He'd think about that later, he decided, re-pocketing the photograph.

An awkward silence engulfed them then. Bobby shifted his gaze off Amy and took in the rest of the neatly appointed room. Only Mrs. Mitchell's entrance with their coffee a few minutes later broke the tension that had once again arisen between them.

While Mrs. Mitchell prepared and served their coffee, Amy took a moment to formally introduce her to Bobby. "Mrs. Mitchell has been with us for the last twenty-five years," she smiled warmly at the older woman. "She started off as Trey's nanny, and then, when he was 12 and announced to us all at dinner one night that he was "too old for a nanny," we asked her to stay on as housekeeper. She's absolutely wonderful and we wouldn't trade her for the world." Mrs. Mitchell beamed at Amy's praise, picked up the tray and stood.

"This coffee is wonderful, Mrs. Mitchell," Bobby told her with a smile. Mrs. Mitchell stood a little straighter and beamed even brighter at Bobby's charm. "Now I see where Trey gets his charm and good looks," she said to Amy. Amy blushed embarrassed and ashamed at having not yet told Mrs. Mitchell just who Bobby was. "Oh, don't be embarrassed, child. I knew he was Trey's daddy from the moment I laid eyes on him. I just can't believe you've kept him in the dark all these years," she chided Amy. "Well, that's none of my business, is it? What IS my business is getting these things back to the kitchen and seeing to dinner." She looked at Bobby again. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Yes ma'am, thank you," Bobby responded politely and smiled at her again.

Amy watched Mrs. Mitchell leave the room with a spring in her step, and she turned to Bobby. "Thank you Bobby," she told him gratefully. Bobby looked at her questioningly. "She hasn't had a spring in her step like that since before Laura died. It's nice to see her smiling like that again, too."

"Well, maybe I'll have to come around and visit her more often, then. Would you like that, Amy," he asked her softly, his warm brown eyes piercing her soul.

Amy turned her head away, then rose and went to the window, leaving her coffee untouched on the table. She stared out blankly and absent-mindedly rubbed one hand up and down over the other arm. Bobby watched her carefully, recognizing in her a need for silence on his part. She sighed deeply and continued to rub her arm. "I don't know, Bobby," she said softly. "I do, but I don't," her voice trailed off and her breath became ragged. "It's all wrong," she said next her voice ending on a sob.

Hearing the soft sob and the catch in her throat, Bobby rose and joined her at the window. "Amy," he asked her softly. She turned and Bobby saw the tears that had formed in her eyes and the sadness that had changed their bright blueness into dreary grey.

"I can stay away, if that's what you want." He watched the emotions that played across her face and swam in the teary blueness of her eyes. She dipped her head; he reached out, gently lifted her chin with a finger then wiped away one of her tears with his thumb. Amy was taken aback by the kindness and gentleness in both his eyes and his gesture and felt she would begin to cry even harder. "You don't want me to stay away, do you," he asked her softly. She shook her head. "And therein lies the problem, because I don't quite know what to make of this whole situation either. I thought you had invited me over here to explain your actions all those years ago. I thought we were going to talk about where I fit in now?"

"We are, I just, I don't know, I expected to you come over here all angry and yelling at me. I was prepared for that; I could handle that." Amy started crying, her words coming out on sobs and gasps. "That would have made it easier for me to keep you at arm's length, but here you come over all nice and polite and you bring me that picture and treat me with kindness, and," she was really crying hard now, Bobby could hardly understand her words, and she was wringing her hands, which was driving him crazy. He gently grabbed her hands in his larger ones, and she began to cry even louder. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her into his arms and rubbed his hands up and down her back in an effort to calm her sobs and soothe her troubled soul.

"Amy," he said firmly, trying to cut through her crying and get her to settle down. "Amy," he said even more firmly, this time pushing her back slightly with his hands on his shoulders. She looked at him and sniffed loudly. "I'm too old to be crying like this on someone's shoulders," she sniffed again and smiled feebly at him. "I'm sorry; I'm a mess." Their eyes met, and twenty-five years seemed to slip away as Bobby replied huskily, "I think you look beautiful."

The sound of running footsteps, followed by a heavy thud against Bobby's legs brought them back to the present. Bobby heard a childish voice cry out, "Daddy! Daddy!" and looked down in time to see the top of a curly blond head against his leg.He gave Amy a confused look as she quickly wiped her eyes with her hands and squatted down to the little creature.

"Hi, Hudson," she told the little boy. He looked at her and smiled. "Nana," he squealed. "Daddy home!" Hudson looked up at the man whose leg he was holding, then let go and looked at his Nana, a scared expression on his little face. "No Daddy," he told her, and looked as though he was about to cry.

Amy gave Hudson a small squeeze and motioned for Bobby to squat down next to her. As he did so, she said gently, "Hudson, this is Bobby."

"Boppy," Hudson questioned, looking back and forth from Amy to Bobby curiously.

"That's right," Amy said nodding and smiling at the little boy. "Bobby is your granddaddy."

"Hi, Hudson," Bobby said softly, staring in wonder and amazement at the toddler. Hudson was a beautiful child, almost cherubic with his curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. Amy's eyes, Bobby thought. He looks like his dad, but he has his grandmother's eyes.

Suddenly, Hudson threw himself at Bobby, wrapping his little arms tightly around Bobby's neck and burrowing his head into Bobby's shoulder. Bobby quickly regained his balance and hugged the child back. He felt a small hand patting him on the back and heard a little voice say, "My Boppy." At that moment, Bobby felt he would never be the same person.

His eyes were misty as he looked at her; he gave her a small smile. Amy answered with one of her own. No words were necessary; Amy had seen the tension leave his body as Hudson had hugged him. She, too, choked up as Hudson pronounced the man he hugged to be his "Boppy." She hoped at that moment that nothing would ever cause Bobby to be out of her family's life again. It would take time for them to rebuild the trust and respect her actions had taken away from them, but she was determined to rebuild it and her family in the process.

She heard Christy calling Hudson from down the hallway, and rose quietly, putting out her hand to stop the nanny from approaching. Christy took a few more soft silent steps and met Amy's gesture and eyes with a questioning expression. Her mouth formed a silent "Oh" as she took in the sight of her little charge hugging the big man squatted on the floor.

Amy tapped Bobby gently on the shoulder. He looked up at her and stood, still holding his grandson. Hudson turned as Bobby stood and spotted Christy standing in the hallway. "Kissy" he squealed delightedly, squirming and trying to reach her. Christy stepped forward and reached for her little charge, taking him easily from the newcomer. She gasped when she realized she was staring at an older version of her employer, Mr. Wainwright. She cast Amy a very confused glance.

Amy gave a small chuckle. "Christy Anderson, this is my old friend, and Trey's father, Bobby Goren. Bobby, this is Christy Anderson, Hudson's nanny."

"Hi," said Christy shyly. Oh, my, she said to herself. Miss Amy has got some explaining to do later. He's gorgeous! Too bad I'm not twenty years older, or I'd be fighting her for him.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," Bobby said to her, an amused expression on his face as he watched the play of expressions over the young woman's face.

Suddenly, Hudson patted Christy on the cheek. "Cookie," he proclaimed loudly. "Want cookie!"

"Okay, you little monster," she answered him affectionately, giving his side a little tickle. He giggled with glee and she looked at Amy and Bobby again. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get this little guy a cookie. It was nice to meet you," she told Bobby as she shifted her hold on Hudson and turned back towards the kitchen.

"She seems very fond of the little guy," Bobby commented as he watched the two of them head off down the hall.

"It's mutual," Amy agreed. "She is such a God-send; and now, with Laura gone, we value her even more. I honestly don't know how we would have gotten along without her these last few weeks."

"I can't believe I'm a grandfather, Amy," Bobby said incredulously. "I'm too young to be a grandfather."

"We were too young to be parents, too," Amy said softly. Bobby turned towards her and saw his sadness mirrored in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said.

"I'm not," Amy said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you and caused you to miss out on so much, but I'm not sorry it happened. Trey's been the best thing that could have ever happened to me, Bobby. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. There's so much more I need to say to you, but I promised my dad he could have a chance to visit and catch up with you some before dinner." She put her arm through his and began to guide him down the hall to the back of the house. "What say I take you next door and hand you over to my dad for a pre-dinner drink," she looked up at him with a questioning smile on her face. "He has a great selection of Scotch," she let her words dangle in front of him with a teasing glint in her deep blue eyes.

"Lead on," said Bobby.


	19. Mom and Dad

_Thank you again, beta girls, for your help and your friendship. Once again, the usual disclaimers apply..._

**Chapter 19 Mom and Dad**

Amy led Bobby to the back of the house. They went out a plain door at the end of the hallway and stepped into an anteroom with a door that opened into the backyard and had another hallway going out of each side. The room was very plain, almost utilitarian like, as were the hallways. Bobby looked around with interest.

"What is this," he asked Amy curiously.

"When my grandfather bought this place, he also bought the two on either side. He put rooms like this in all three homes and connected them with hallways so that the family and the house staff could come and go between all three without having to go outside. There are similar hallways on the two upper floors. In the basement, he simply knocked out large sections of the walls. It all seemed very mysterious to me as a child; now that I and my family live here, it's very convenient."

"Wow," said Bobby in amazement as he continued to look around. Amy thought he looked like a kid in a candy store and wondered if he was like this during investigations. She'd have to ask Detective Eames about that sometime, she thought to herself, following that up with a mental note to get together sometime soon with Bobby's partner for a little "girl talk."

Amy led Bobby off to the left, explaining that the hallway to the right led to Trey's home. About 50 feet away, the hallway opened into another anteroom like the one at Amy's house. Here the hallway ended. There was a door on the right leading outside and a door on the left that Bobby assumed led into the house. This room was different in that someone had put up coat hooks on the wall. There was a bench with cubbies under it for shoes. Bobby noticed the shoes were small and muddy. "Are those your mom's shoes," Bobby asked, pointing to the bench.

"Yes, she has a beautiful garden out back. Maybe she'll show it to you sometime."

"I don't remember her gardening back in Germany," Bobby commented.

Amy looked at him in amazement. "I'm impressed; you still remember all those details from back then?"

"You'd be amazed what I'd remember," Bobby said softly, his eyes looking at her intensely.

Amy swallowed hard; Bobby thought he saw a slight flush to her cheeks. "Well, um, we really should go inside. My…uh…Dad, AJ, is…ehem," she cleared her throat and waved towards the door, "is waiting for you."

"Oh, okay, sure," Bobby said amusedly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips; his eyes were dancing at her discomfort. So, I wasn't imagining it after all, he said to himself. More to think about later….He reached out and opened the door, holding it for her and indicating for her to enter.

As Amy led him down the hall towards her father's study she thought to herself, this can't be happening. After all these years I still have such strong feelings for him. What is going on here, she wondered.

Suddenly, a woman's voice called out from the kitchen, "Bobby? Bobby Goren? Is that you," Patty Wainwright appeared in the doorway, casually dressed in slacks and a bright green blouse, drying her hands on a dish towel. She was older and grayer now, but still as tall and elegant as Bobby remembered her all those years ago. She smiled and held out her arms to him. "It IS you," she said excitedly, wrapping him in a hug.

She stepped back and studied him, her hands still on his shoulders, smile wide on her face. "Oh, Amy told me you were stopping by. I just can't believe it. I hope you're not mad at all of us; after all, we have honored Amy's wishes all these years. Oh, my goodness!" She hugged him again. "I still can't believe it," she said, stepping back to admire him. "You look so handsome, just as I remembered you. Well, I mustn't keep you any longer; AJ is waiting for you in his study." She took his hand in her smaller ones and held it tight. "Please promise me you'll come back and sit in the kitchen and visit with me, for old time's sake? I used to love our kitchen chats back when you and Amy were dating. You were like the son I never had," she started to tear up and dabbed at her face with the towel.

Amy felt like she was 16 again and bringing a date home for the first time. She grabbed Bobby's arm and pulled him down the hall and away from her mother. "I promise he'll come back and see you, Mom. Dad's waiting, remember?"

"Oh, yes, dear; I remember. It was good to see you again, Bobby."

"You, too, Mrs. Wainwright." Bobby looked at Amy and chuckled. "She hasn't changed a bit, has she?"

Amy just shook her head in agreement. "I felt like I was 16 and bringing you home for the first time!" She giggled and leaned into his arm. Bobby loved the feeling, even though it sent alarm bells clanging inside his brain. "Too soon! Too soon!" they seemed to scream at him. Shut up, he thought back in response.

They arrived at the double doors to AJ's study and Amy knocked quietly. "Well," she said, turning to face Bobby. "Here we are, the lion's den," she commented with raised eyebrows and a smile. "Have fun. Dad promises to have you back to me in time for dinner," she said, as the doors slid open and AJ appeared.

"Dad promises no such thing, young lady," AJ said with a smile.

"Da-ad," Amy admonished, stepping over and stretching up to kiss the older man on the cheek. "Play nice," she told him, gently squeezing his upper arm. "You promised."

"Of course, honey," AJ responded, smiling fondly at his daughter and returning her kiss with one of his own. "Run along now, we men need to talk."

She winked at Bobby and touched his forearm. "If you're not back by 6:30, I'll come rescue you." He grinned at her in return. Both men watched her disappear back down the hall before turning to face each other in the doorway.

"Robert," AJ began, extending his hand to shake Bobby's. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you again, too, General," Bobby agreed, shaking the older man's hand in return. AJ Wainwright was only two inches taller than Bobby, but even after all this time, seeing him again made Bobby feel like he was 21 and meeting Amy's father for the first time.

"AJ, please, call me AJ," AJ said, stepping back, inviting Bobby in and putting him at ease. "I haven't been General in a long time and neither one of us is still in the service. Amy tells me you still have a taste for a good Scotch whiskey."

"Yes, please." Bobby stepped into AJ's study and stopped in his tracks. He turned in a slow circle as he took in the room. Tall, dark oak bookshelves lined all the walls, occasionally broken up by tall windows with window seats. The desk was a large mahogany creation in the ball and claw style, hand-carved and hand-rubbed and well preserved. The perfectly proportioned leather furniture seemed as though it was made for the room. A well-stocked bar was set in the built-ins behind the desk. The coffee table and side tables which graced the room were also perfect. To Bobby, it was the study he had always dreamed of having someday.

As though in a trance, he moved towards one of the shelves and ran his long fingers gracefully and lovingly across the spines of the books. He found himself whispering their titles as he moved along. "'Brave Men', 'The Battle of Leyte Gulf', 'The Federalist Papers', Hemmingway, Shakespeare…" his voice was soft and reverent.

AJ watched the younger man move around the room, taking it all in, admiring the tomes that lined the shelves, and caressing them as though they were long lost friends. He moved to stand next to Bobby and handed him his drink. "You like them," AJ said quietly, indicating the books on the shelves.

"Like them," Bobby said incredulously. "I love them." He accepted the drink and took a sip, pausing to cast an admiring glance at AJ. "My mother was a librarian; she would have loved this room," he commented reverently. "Look at these titles you have; and such a variety." Bobby moved down the rows of shelves as he spoke. "'Don Quixote' by Dumas; 'Brave New World' by Aldous Huxley; Ernie Pyle's 'Brave Men'. Wow. And the authors: Grisham, Clancy, Michener, Shakespeare, Twain, Conan-Doyle, Dickens, Melville, even Chaucer and Neitchze. Have you read all of these?"

"Most of them. Some are Patty's; a few are Amy's." He pointed to a wicker basket tucked discretely under one of the side tables and overflowing with board books. "Even my grandson has his books in here," he chuckled.

"It must be nice," Bobby mused. AJ caught the sadness in his eyes as he spoke and wondered just exactly what put it there. The discovery of his son and grandson after all this time, the missed opportunities, or was it something else entirely? AJ knew from the beginning that there was more to Bobby than meets the eye, or than the younger man was eager to share with the world. He also sensed that those secrets contributed to the sadness; AJ hoped Amy would have another chance to erase some of that sadness from his face.

"Well, we didn't come here just to talk about my books," AJ said next. "Come, sit down. Make yourself comfortable." He indicated the two leather sofas facing each other in the center of the room and sat himself down on one of them. Bobby took the seat directly opposite and placed his right ankle on his left knee as he sat, then leaned back and took another sip of his Scotch.

"This is excellent Scotch, sir," he told AJ. "Very smooth, very mellow."

"I'm glad you approve. I wasn't sure if you were a single malt or a double malt kind of man, so I just poured you some of my favorite."

"You can never go wrong with Glinlivet," Bobby said knowledgeably.

"Very good," AJ crowed. "A man who knows his Scotch. I knew there was more to like about you than just the way you treated my Amy." He raised his glass in salute and winked as he took a sip. Bobby raised his glass and grinned back at him as he, too, took another sip of the amber liquid.

"I've been keeping up with your career, Bobby."

Bobby looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a look of curiosity. "When Amy told us she was pregnant I had to make sure you were as good a man as you seemed to be. I was surprised when you left the service. I made some inquiries and found out you were bored. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you had become fascinated with Declan Gage and profiling." He let that last comment hang in the air. When Bobby said nothing, but waited to see where he was going with that statement, AJ continued.

"We had high hopes for you in the Army, you know. Several of my colleagues and I had our eyes on you; felt you were a rising star, could have gone far up the ranks had you stayed in."

"Well, sir, I had never really planned on staying in all my life. For me, it was a way to get an education, figure out what I wanted to do with my life and keep me out of trouble. After I met Gage and got involved with profiling, leaving the service and joining the NYPD just seemed to make sense. Besides, I never really did see myself as "high ranking officer material". I'm too unconventional, too quirky."

"I happen to like quirky, myself," AJ said with a chuckle. "But, I know what you mean. I finally had had enough of the political bullshit myself, especially once I got to the Pentagon. I only stayed in as long as I did for the pension and benefits it afforded me. After Patty's father died, it all seemed rather immaterial, but I stayed in as a matter of pride. I'd been in for so long by that time, what was another few years, you know?" Bobby nodded his agreement and took another sip of his drink.

"So, what are you intentions regarding my daughter," AJ suddenly asked gruffly. Bobby was caught so off-guard by the question that he choked on his drink, spewing Scotch onto his pants and the coffee table in front of him and nearly dropping his glass in the process. "Well, now, I didn't mean to get you so upset," AJ said calmly. "I just asked a question any well-meaning father would ask, especially of the man who was the father of her child."

Bobby stared at him in near disbelief. "Well, I, um," he stuttered. "I'm not really sure what my intentions are, sir. I only found out two days ago, I'm still kind of stunned by the whole thing. I mean, I still like Amy, but I don't really know her any more. And Trey, well, he seems like a nice boy, but I'm going to need more time than just two days to make up my mind."

AJ seemed to consider what Bobby had just said, then smiled. "Well, said, son; well said. I'm sorry if I caught you off-guard; I just have to be careful that you weren't back just for the money."

"The money, sir?"

"Yes; after Amy's grandfather died, he left three-fourths of his entire estate to Amy. We got the house here and in Utica, as well as the Gallery and executorship of the Public Trust, but the rest of it, the other two houses here, the stock, the winery, the 50 billion dollar trust fund, all of that is Amy's." AJ looked at the stunned expression on Bobby's face. "She never told you about her grandfather?"

"Oh, she told me lots about her grandfather. Summers at the estate, Saturdays at the Metropolitan Art Museum, his desire to start a winery at his upstate home; but not the rest. Where did all of that come from?"

"My father was an industrialist. He made billions on steel and oil. My sister and I were his only children. She died in a car accident when she was 22; both she and her fiancée were killed instantly. As his only grandchild, Amy became the apple of his eye, and basically his sole heir. I never really wanted even what we got; serving my country in the military meant more to me than running Dad's company. Thankfully, he understood and supported me.

"Dad sold the company shortly before he died; that's where the trust fund came from. He hadn't worked at the company in years, but was the owner and majority stock holder. I encouraged him to take the company public and retire. That's when he started the Gallery and the Public Trust. The winery came later. Dad sweet-talked Amy into starting the winery with him. Now, she's passing it on to Trey, whom I must say loves it more than she does. Well, that's enough about us, what about you?"

Bobby didn't quite know what to say. Being a police officer seemed to pale in comparison to AJ and Amy. "My family and my background are not important to me. Amy is, especially in light of her having given birth to my son. Trey is, for obvious reasons, and Hudson, well, I'm still in shock that I'm grandfather, but he's a cute little guy and I'm looking forward to getting to know him."

"You're in shock that you're a grandfather? Hell, son, I'm still in shock that I'm a great-grandfather. But, I suppose that's what you get when you have kids early in life." AJ placed his now empty glass on the coffee table and shifted so that he was leaning forward to focus an intense gaze on Bobby. "Now, why do you say your family and your background aren't important? Didn't they shape you; cause you to be who you are today?"

"Yes, sir; to an extent. There are also things about my family that give me pause about myself, things I'm not comfortable talking about, if that's all right." Bobby shifted uncomfortably as AJ continued to study him intently. He'd never been the object of such intense scrutiny before and found he'd rather be the giver than the receiver. No wonder his suspects wriggled and squirmed so much. Before he knew it, he found himself volunteering a few things he never thought he would share with anyone, much less with someone he barely knew. "My mom died almost a year ago, of lymphoma. Being in this study, surrounded by all these books…well, it reminded me of her, and how she instilled in me my love of reading. I'd love to come and just sit here and read sometime, that is, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Anytime you need to escape from the pressures of being a detective on the NYPD, you're welcome to come here and get lost in a good book." AJ chuckled as Bobby looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, don't look so shocked. Amy told us all about you being a detective with the Major Case Squad after she, uh, made a spectacle of herself in your squad room the other day."

Bobby smiled and chuckled at the memory. "She made quite an entrance back into my life, that's for sure. I don't ever want to make her that mad at me again." Bobby winced and shifted his shoulders at the memory of her purse hitting him on the back.

"She haul off and hit you," AJ asked, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

"She tried to," Bobby answered him. "I grabbed her wrist as she swung at me, but I wasn't able to stop her purse from whacking me in the back."

"Ouch," AJ winced sympathetically. "She always was a firecracker." AJ looked at his watch, then stood up from the sofa. "Well, looks like I've kept you here long enough. Amy wants you back by 6:30, so I'd better see to it you're over there before then, or she's liable to come after me with her purse."

Chuckling again, Bobby also rose from the sofa where he had been sitting, placing his drink on the table as he did so. He extended his hand to AJ and shook it warmly. "Thanks for the drink and the talk, sir. I enjoyed it."

"Please, Bobby; I insist you call me AJ. And you're welcome for the drink. My offer about the library is open-ended; any time, you understand?" He looked pointedly at Bobby as he said this, and Bobby knew he wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

"Thank you, sir, I mean AJ," Bobby said.

AJ walked with Bobby to the doorway. "You think you can find your way back?"

"As long as Patty doesn't grab me and tie me down in the kitchen for her turn."

Now it was AJ's turn to chuckle. "Ah, Patty's harmless. You just tell her I said you were off-limits for the rest of the evening, and she has to answer to me if she doesn't like it, okay?" Bobby smiled and waved as he turned and walked back down the hallway.


	20. Schnitzel With Noodles

_Thanks, beta girls! tuda..._

**Chapter 20 Schnitzel with Noodles**

Bobby made his way down the hall towards the back of the house. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed visiting with Amy's parents back when he and Amy were dating. There was always so much warmth and affection, something Bobby had never had in his home growing up and he had been envious of Amy's family. The warmth and affection was still there, and now in light of recent revelations, Bobby realized he missed it even more. _Miss it_, he asked himself. _Hell, I need it_, he thought. _Especially after everything that's happened recently._

Patty was nowhere in sight when Bobby passed the kitchen, and he continued on, uninterrupted, back to Amy's.

The sound of happy little giggles greeted his ears, and he smiled. _I could get used to coming home to that sound_, he thought. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the goings-on in Amy's kitchen. Amy and Christy were sitting at the table, watching Hudson feed himself spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner. The little guy was wearing almost as much as he was managing to swallow in between giggles. All three were laughing as he slurped the noodles and struggled with his spoon. As he watched, he was struck by the realization that she could still take his breath away with her smile. After all this time, he thought. _I wonder….._

His reverie was broken when Hudson spotted him standing there. "Boppy," he shouted, waving his hands in the air. As Bobby watched, the spaghetti that had been in the spoon Hudson was still holding in his chubby fist went flying through the air, landing on Amy. It spattered on her cream silk blouse and splashed onto her chin and down her arm. The rest landed on the floor.

"Oh," cried Amy, astonished. Christy jumped up to grab the spoon from Hudson's hand and the bowl from the high chair's tray. Bobby was across the kitchen in a few long strides and quickly grabbed a towel from off the counter next to the sink. He ran water over the towel, then turned to find Amy standing next to him.

"You have spaghetti on your chin," he told her, reaching out to wipe the offending sauce from off her soft skin. Her breath felt warm on his hand and he felt his stomach lurch. "Here," he said, handing her the towel and stepping to the side. "You'll want to wipe your shirt and wash off your arm." He gestured to the sink as he moved further out of her way.

Amy thought she saw the faintest blush of red on his ears and remembered, _"his ears turned red when he was embarrassed…or aroused….hmmm…….I wonder…._

"MORE!" Hudson's anguished cries over the removal of his dinner pulled Bobby's attention away from Amy. He stepped over to the little guy and gently took the bowl and spoon from Christy. "Here," he said to the nanny. "I'll help him finish up." He turned the high chair away from the table then positioned one of the chairs in front of it. Sitting down he smiled warmly at Hudson. "Hey, Hudson; you want some more spaghetti?" Hudson opened his mouth wide and eagerly took the spoonful Bobby offered him. When little hands began to reach for the spoon, Bobby chided him gently and continued feeding the little boy. "No, Boppy's gonna feed you right now," he said, falling into the pet name he had been graced with earlier and discovering he liked the sound of it. "Nana needs to get cleaned up for dinner and Christy needs to wipe the floor. That just leaves you and me, okay?"

Hudson nodded and opened his mouth again for more spaghetti. They soon made short work of the rest of the boy's meal, and Bobby moved gracefully out of the chair, pushing it back under the table and placing the bowl and spoon in the sink. As Christy scooped up Hudson and whisked him off to take a bath, Bobby washed his hands. Amy handed him a towel. "Thank you," she said softly. "You didn't have to jump in like that and help out."

"It was my pleasure. Besides, he's my grandson. Why wouldn't I want to help out?"

"I don't know," Amy said. "You don't even know him? You're uncomfortable around kids? We never had that discussion, you know. I wasn't sure how you'd react to him. You did a great job feeding him, by the way."

"Thank you. I enjoyed it. Why don't you go change your shirt? I'll open the wine." Bobby pointed to the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. Amy smiled at him and turned to leave the kitchen. "Amy," Bobby called after her softly. "I love being around kids," he told her, smiling.

Amy left the kitchen and headed up the stairs to change her clothes. She could hear Bobby whistling as he moved around the kitchen. She reached her bedroom and went into the closet and started flipping through the blouses hanging on the rack. A few minutes had passed before Amy realized she was flipping mindlessly, unable to make up her mind. _What is wrong with me_, she chided herself. _Just pick something,_ she thought, grabbing the next thing her hand touched, a sapphire blue top with cap sleeves and a deep scoop neckline. Unaware of how the blouse made her eyes sparkle and her skin glow, not to mention how much it revealed, Amy hurriedly slipped out of the soiled top and into the clean one. She ducked into the bathroom, quickly running her brush through her hair and swiftly swiping soft pink lip gloss across her mouth.

Amy came down the stairs to hear the sounds of smooth jazz flowing from the dining room. Curiously, she headed in that direction, stopping when she reached the doorway. Mrs. Mitchell had laid a romantic table setting for two, and Bobby had lit the candles and poured the wine. He was standing by the entrance from the dining room to the living room, studying a portrait of Amy's family. When Amy softly knocked on the doorframe, he turned and gasped softly.

Amy blushed as she heard him gasp and saw his gaze run appreciatively up and down her body. Two can play that game she thought, as she took the time to study him as well, taking in his dark pin-striped Armani suit, bright blue dress shirt and silk tie. Bobby broke the spell when he stepped towards the table and picked up the two wine glasses. He moved quietly around the table and handed Amy a glass as she moved further into the room to join him. "You look beautiful," he breathed.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Amy answered him as she took the glass he offered her. "I'm amazed you managed to feed Hudson the rest of his spaghetti and not get any on yourself," she commented, carefully examining him for any signs of sauce. "I think you're sauce free." She stepped back and raised her glass. "To…."

"To renewing old friendships," Bobby said, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Amy took the hint. "And starting over," she answered him with a raised eyebrow of her own.

"And starting over," Bobby echoed in agreement, gently touching his glass to hers. They each took a sip, never taking their eyes off each other.

Mrs. Mitchell entered the room quietly then, and cleared her throat. Amy jumped slightly then turned and looked at her. Mrs. Mitchell noticed a faint blush to Amy's cheeks but said nothing, asking instead if they were ready for her to serve the salads.

"Yes, please. That would be wonderful." Amy turned back to Bobby and stifled a giggle; for some reason she felt like they had been caught, even though they weren't doing anything. Bobby winked and grinned back at her.

Bobby then looked at the table. Mrs. Mitchell had set two place settings, one at the end of the table, and the other to its left. He moved over to the chair at the head of the table and pulled it out. "Amy," he called to her, indicating with a wave of his hand that she should allow him to seat her. Amy did giggle then, moving to the proffered place, setting her glass on the table and allowing him to seat her properly. She placed her hands in her lap and watched as he stepped to his left and seated himself next to her.

"This is perfect," he said, leaning in towards her and reaching out with his right hand. "Now, I can sit next to you and hold your hand all through dinner. That is if it's okay with you?"

She placed her left hand in his much larger right one and watched as it seemed to disappear as he gently wrapped his fingers around hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. She thought back to when they were dating and how amazed she was that a man as large and powerful as he was could be so gentle and sweet. "For now," she said simply, looking up at him and giving him a small smile. "I'm sure you have lots of questions for me."

"I do, but I had forgotten how much I like holding your hand." When Amy looked up at him in shock, he smiled at her and continued. "I didn't want to stop being together, Amy. You broke up with me, remember?"

Amy looked deep into his brown eyes then. What she saw in them took her by surprise. Sadness, she expected that, maybe some regret; what she didn't expect was what was missing. There was no anger there, only questions. Questions which she hopped she could answer adequately.

Mrs. Mitchell came back in then, bearing two salad plates which she deftly placed in front of each of them. They murmured their thanks to her as she left. She quickly returned with two pitchers, one with iced tea, the other with water. She asked each of them in turn which they preferred, poured their drinks and left, placing the pitchers on the sideboard within easy reach.

Bobby and Amy quietly ate their salads. Each had questions, but was afraid to go first. Finally, Amy broke the silence, hoping that small talk and chit-chat would pave the way for more serious conversation later. "How was your day?"

Bobby looked over at her. "Lousy. Eames and I had a lot of paperwork to finish up in the squad room then I came here."

"I'm sorry. Paperwork sucks, doesn't it?"

Bobby chuckled with her in agreement. "So, how did you go from being a history major to running an international winery, anyway? That seems like quite a jump," Bobby commented.

"Grandpa AJ," Amy answered. "After I announced that I was pregnant, he and Grandma bought a house in College Station and moved down to help out. My roommate, Michelle and I moved out of the dorm and into the house, away from prying eyes and nosy neighbors. I had plenty of quiet and help. The last several months were tough. A&M is a huge campus for a pregnant woman. I had support and understanding from my friends and classmates, but having that house to go home to at the end of the day really made it nice. Anyway, after Trey was born, and graduation, Grandpa AJ wanted to explore the possibility of growing grapes and making wine up in Utica. My graduation present was a fact finding trip with him through Europe. The end result is that now we have a very successful winery up there and Trey is the head of international business. And how did you end up back here from the Army?"

"Your dad didn't tell you," Bobby asked her pointedly.

"He did, but I want to hear it from you," Amy answered him. "Please?"

Bobby was about to begin telling Amy when Mrs. Mitchell poked her head in from the kitchen. "Are you ready for the main course," she asked. Bobby gathered up their salad plates and handed them to Mrs. Mitchell. "I think so," he told her. He leaned in towards her and spoke softly into her ear, "The salad was wonderful, by the way." Mrs. Mitchell blushed and smiled at him as she went back into the kitchen.

Bobby returned to the table and sat down, a devilish grin on his face. "I think she likes me," he said. Amy glared at him; Bobby laughed. "So, what's next? I'm starving."

"What was your favorite thing to eat while we were dating?"

Bobby's eyes got big, and he stared at Amy. "Really?" She nodded. "You're serious?" Amy nodded again, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, wow. Weiner Schnitzel? With red cabbage and noodles?" Amy nodded and smiled once more. Bobby reached over and squeezed her hand. "Thank you. I haven't eaten that in a long time. It brings back memories."

"Good ones, I hope," Amy said softly, returning Bobby's squeeze.

"Very good ones," Bobby replied, an intense look in his eyes.

Mrs. Mitchell entered the dining room just then, and carefully placed the steaming plates of food in front of them. She refilled their drink and wine glasses, and asked if they needed anything else.

"That will be all, thank you," Amy told her graciously. "I'll handle serving dessert later if you'd like to go home now. I can take care of the dishes."

"Good night, then," Mrs. Mitchell replied. "Enjoy your dinner. It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Goren."

"It was nice meeting you, too, Mrs. Mitchell. I hope I'll be seeing you again, sometime soon."

Mrs. Mitchell blushed and waved at them as she went back into the kitchen.

"You've made quite an impression on her, you know," Amy told him. "She'll be insufferable for days." Bobby just grinned at her.

"Now, where were we," Bobby asked.

"You were going to tell me what drew you away from the Army and back to New York City."

"I got bored with Criminal Investigations work. I loved solving the crimes and breaking the suspects, but it was all rather boring. Same old, same old, you know? Not too many murders happened on military bases. There were gambling rings and drugs and domestic abuse cases that became too much for the MPs, but nothing like what I get to do with the NYPD. I lost the excitement, the thrill; it became too routine. Then I started reading articles and hearing talk about profiling. Getting inside a criminal's head and figuring out what made them, what drove them to commit the crime. What were they thinking, what kind of personality traits did they posses, that sort of thing.

"Then I met Declan Gage, the first to use profiling to help solve cases. I learned from him and went through the NYPD academy. Worked my way up through the years until I got to Major Case. I've been there for 8 years now."

"Has Alex been your partner the whole time?"

"Since I've been at Major Case, yes. Eames is the only one who really gets me and can handle working with me. I can be…uh…unconventional and a handful at times. I've been told I'm an "acquired taste," he chuckled.

Amy smiled. "I'm sure it's been more exciting for you than you just made it out to be."

"It is; I just didn't think you wanted details about dead bodies over dinner." Bobby smiled at her as he took another bite of his food. He swallowed then washed it down with a sip of red wine. "This schnitzel is excellent, by the way. Who cooked it?"

"I did," Amy replied. "Don't look so shocked! I loved German cooking and missed it back here in the states. It was so hard to find places that could do a good job cooking it, that I learned how to do it myself. I'm glad you like it."

"My compliments to the chef," Bobby told her, raising his glass to her with a soft smile. She dipped her head in gracious acknowledgement of his thanks and smiled back.

The rest of their meal continued with small talk, each catching the other up on people they had known while overseas in Germany. When they were done, they each gathered up their dishes and Bobby followed Amy back to the kitchen. After placing the dirty dishes in the sink, Amy turned to Bobby. "Are you ready for dessert, or do you want to wait a little bit?"

"I'd like to wait, if you don't mind. How about some more wine," Bobby asked her, picking up the bottle and pouring more in his own glass.

Amy answered by handing him her glass. He reached out as if to take the glass, but instead merely placed his large hand over her smaller one, holding the glass still while he poured the ruby liquid into it. Amy glanced at him from underneath lowered lashes, but Bobby's face appeared smooth, unemotional; however, she sensed that he was well aware of what he was doing.


	21. In the Garden

**Chapter 21 In the Garden**

Amy murmured her thanks when he was finished and calmed her rapidly beating heart by taking another sip. She hadn't thought such casual contact could have such an effect on her, but the gentle touch of his hand on hers as he poured the wine had set her skin to tingling and had sent her heart racing. "Would you like to go sit outside? My mother's garden is particularly lovely this time of day."

"Sure," Bobby agreed. He scooped the bottle up off the counter and followed her. Amy stopped at the door to the garden and flipped a few switches on the wall next to the door. Entering the garden, Bobby stopped to take it all in. Delicate plants were beautifully arranged in pots and beds across the entire back of the three houses. There were trees and bushes with benches and seats nestled in among them and through it all ran a cobblestone pathway. Soft subtle lighting lent the perfect glow to the dim light from nearby homes and streetlamps.

Amy made her way easily down the steps and along the walkway, stopping at a bench under an elm tree, its sweeping branches providing a canopy of leafy privacy. She sat gracefully and patted the space next to her, looking up at Bobby as she did. Bobby felt as if he had just been transported back 25 years and was seeing Amy up close for the first time. He took his time sitting next to her, going to great pains to insure that the wine bottle was set safely out of the way but still within his reach. He used this opportunity to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. They still had much to discuss and Bobby needed a clear head.

"It's nice out here," he said. "I can see why you wanted to come out here. Your mom has done an excellent job."

"Yes, she has, hasn't she? It's my favorite place in the whole house. Dad has his library, Trey has the winery and Mom and I have the garden. I love to come out here at night and just sit and listen to the sounds of the city. It's like my own private haven."

The two sat next to each other and sipped their wine. The silence soon became uncomfortable; Amy struggled to think of something to ask. Finally, she dared to broach a subject which had her concerned earlier that day, Bobby's refusal to answer the phone. "You were very hard to reach today. Where were you before you went into the squad room?"

Bobby looked at Amy carefully as he considered his answer. Should I tell her the truth, that I was so upset by what had happened and fed up with the office gossip machine that I went out and got really drunk? He weighed his answer and quickly made a decision, one he hoped he wouldn't regret later.

"Are we using this time to start over?" Bobby watched Amy as she nodded yes in response. "Okay, then; I'll be honest. I went to a bar and got drunk; really, really drunk. Eames and Logan found me and took me home. I was sleeping it off when you called this morning. I had unplugged my home phone and turned off my cell phone. Eames came over and told me you were trying to reach me." He noticed her disapproving look and sighed, running his hand through his graying curls. "Look, you asked, and I answered," he said angrily. He stopped, took a deep breath and exhaled. "It's how I cope. I know it's not the best way, but you asked and I gave you an honest answer. That is why we're here, isn't it? To be honest with each other, come clean; figure out what we're going to do?"

"Oh, my God," Amy gasped. "Bobby, I had no idea. Don't you have someone you can talk to instead of getting drunk? What about Alex?"

"Eames? She doesn't need to hear about this." Bobby leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Bobby, I'm sorry. I didn't know…."

Bobby opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. Keeping his anger barely in check, he set the glass on the bench and got up and began to pace. So many thoughts and questions were running through his head, but the main question, the one he vocalized, was simply, "Why?"

Amy took a large sip of her wine and watched him pace. She knew he would ask her that question eventually. How many nights over the last 25 years had she lain awake in her bed, trying to answer that very same question? She remembered what she had told him: she didn't to be a military wife; she didn't want her kids to grow up struggling with moving regularly and not being able to have a best friend; the fear of her husband getting severely injured or even killed. She thought of the stronger excuses next, and it was one of these that she chose for her answer.

"I didn't want to saddle you with a child you didn't want."

"How could you know that," Bobby retorted. "Did I ever give you the impression that I didn't or wouldn't have wanted kids? Like you pointed out earlier, we never had that discussion, did we?" Bobby stopped suddenly, right in front of her and glared down at her from his full height. "And, what gave you the right to make that decision for me?"

Amy thought he was now the scariest person she had ever seen, and she cowered under his glare. She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear her. "I didn't want to mess up your life, either."

"What," he roared.

"You would have felt like we had to get married. I didn't want you to have to marry someone you didn't love." As Bobby listened to her talk, he realized she was shrinking away from him. He suddenly realized how scary and intimidating he could appear when he was like this, so he stepped back, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender, an apologetic look on his face.

"Amy, Amy…I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." He moved over to the bench and sat down, keeping plenty of space between them. "Why would you think my life would have been ruined?"

"Your career with the Army was going really well. Having to marry me and raise a child could have messed that all up. I didn't want you to think I had done that on purpose just so I could get married. I also wanted to finish school and having to marry you and be in Germany would have messed that up for me." She looked at Bobby with a pleading expression, her eyes welling up with tears. "It seemed like the best way at the time."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm not so sure. There are times when it would have been nice to have had you around. I know Trey would have loved it, having a dad who was a big, brave police officer. It would have meant everything to him." Amy hung her head and turned away from Bobby, hot tears flowing down her cheeks.

Bobby said quietly, "It would have meant everything to me, too." Bobby reached over and gently turned her face to his. "To have had both of you in my life all this time. Do you have any idea what I've gone through in the last 25 years?" Amy shook her head. "It hasn't been easy. I don't talk about it much, but I feel like I need to be honest with you. My dad was a gambler and a drunk who wasn't around much while I was growing up. I told you about my brother; he's still having problems with drinking, drugs and gambling. I only see him when he needs something. And my mom," Bobby hesitated, unsure if he should continue. Amy placed her hand on his arm. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

Bobby shook his head. "No, I need to. My mom had schizophrenia. She was in and out of the mental hospital while I was growing up. I finally had to have her committed to Carmel Ridge. She died earlier this year from lymphoma. It would have been really nice to have been able to come home to you and Trey."

Amy was now crying softly, the tears pouring down her face. She saw the pain and anguish in his eyes, and cried even harder, sobbing and choking out her words. "And I, we, could have been there with you. I could have helped you. You would have been able to come home to us instead of an empty house. Oh, God, Bobby!" She lowered her head into her hands and sobbed. Bobby found himself drawn closer to her, to her need for comfort, a need he recognized in himself. He slid over next to her and gently eased his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him and holding her while she cried.

A few minutes later, her crying slowed to a stop and she pulled back from him. She wiped her face with her hands and pushed her hair back behind her ear. When she looked up at Bobby, she saw her emotions reflected in his brown eyes: sadness, loss, pain; and something more, emptiness. Had she been forthcoming with him all those years ago, there might not be any emptiness in his eyes, she thought. Again, she apologized. She gently caressed his cheek and leaned forward until her forehead was resting against his. "I guess I really screwed up, didn't I?"

Bobby was silent, trying to put his thoughts into words. "I think we both screwed up." She pulled back, sat up straight and looked at him confused. "I could have argued more forcefully that night on the phone," he told her. "I had time off; I could have taken it, jumped on the next plane and showed up at your dorm room, ready to fight to keep you."

"Why didn't you," Amy asked him.

"I don't know. I was so angry at being dumped over the phone. Stunned that you would think everything that had happened didn't mean anything. I had to get out of the office, cool off before I hit something, or someone; I couldn't let myself take my anger out on my co-workers, so I went for a walk and a smoke. I stood outside for 2 hours, smoking and thinking. I finally decided that if that was how you wanted it, then fine, I would let you go. I would push past my feelings, all my love for you, my desire to share everything about me with you, and let you have it your way."

"I was serious back in the squad room the other day when I told you I had planned on asking you to marry me when you came back for Christmas. I had decided that you were worth it. You touched me in a way no one had ever touched me; I just felt like you were "the one", you know?" He rose and began pacing again; spilling his heart out, saying all the things he had been planning to say to her when he proposed all those years ago. "I was going to tell you about my family. You had been so non-judgmental when I told you about Frank, that I felt like I could tell you about anything and it wouldn't matter, it wouldn't change how you felt about me or looked at me or anything. You would have just taken it in and said, 'Okay, that's cool.' No one ever acted like that. Well, except for Lewis, but he's a guy, and we grew up together, so that's different." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, gathering up his thoughts again before he continued.

"Amy, not even Eames has been allowed as far inside of me as I was willing to let you in. I learned as I child not to say too much, not to let people in. Most people pitied me. I didn't want pity, I wanted acceptance. I felt like I would get that from you and I craved that. I still do, but now, I don't know if you can give it to me. I don't even know if I want you to give it to me. Does any of that make sense; because right now, nothing makes sense to me at all." He had stopped and was facing her, his hands in his pockets, head bowed.

"Yes, it makes sense, in its own convoluted way." She gave him a sad smile. "Until I found out I was pregnant, and got scared, I was going to let you in, too." He looked up at her then, sadness on his face. Amy thought she saw tears in his brown eyes, and she clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, resisting the urge to go to him and hug him; somehow she sensed that would be the wrong thing to do. She forced herself to continue, digging deep into emotions and fears she hadn't faced in a long time.

"I never had very many friends growing up. We moved every couple of years until I reached junior high, and I always felt like an outcast at school. I was the 'new kid' and by the time I'd been there long enough to feel like I fit in, that I belonged, Daddy would get word that he was being transferred and we'd be packing up and leaving. After a while, I closed off my heart and refused to let anyone get too far in so that I wouldn't be hurt so much when we left. It just seemed easier that way at the time. Once I reached junior high, Daddy was at Ft. Hood in Texas. We were there for 6 years. I was so happy. I met Susan and Kelly there. I had thought we would all go to A&M together, but when the whole unit got transferred to Germany, they decided to spend their first year after high school over there, traveling Europe and sight-seeing. Then they decided to go to University in Germany and I only saw them over my summer and Christmas breaks."

"When I first met you, I was swept away by your looks, your charm, and your dancing." She smiled at him and they both chuckled. Bobby returned to sit next to her on the bench; this time, they faced each other, sensing a change in the air for the better. "I thought, 'Wow, he has got to be the cutest guy here, and he's talking to me. Susan and Kelly were jealous; happy for me, but jealous. I floated home that night. I could tell you wanted to kiss me, but I figured if you were really interested in me, you wouldn't be turned off by not getting a kiss, you'd be intrigued and want to find out more about me. Then you were just so nice; you took things at my pace, understood my reasons without reservations, and I fell even harder. I began to sense the same loneliness and sense of not belonging in you that I felt in me and it was nice, you know. Nice just to be able to talk and share without fear of being turned away, of having you not like me anymore. I felt like I belonged with you, but was still so afraid that if I did anything to mess it up, you wouldn't want me anymore, you'd push me away."

"Why? What happened to you to make you so untrusting?"

"Do you really want to hear that tonight, Bobby? It's getting late and you have to work tomorrow. Can it keep for another time," Amy asked him softly, a slight tinge of regret in her voice at the lateness of the hour.

"I guess so," Bobby said as he stood. He reached down for Amy's hand and helped her rise from the bench. He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they began to walk towards the house. "Can I see you again? Tomorrow, maybe," Bobby asked her.

"Hmmm," Amy thought. "Tomorrow I have a wine tasting for this year's vintage at a gallery in SoHo. I have to be there to schmooze and talk about the wine. I could use a date," Amy looked up at him hopefully. Bobby looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I promise you, it will be fun. These things aren't usually stuffy. Once everybody gets a few glasses in them, they loosen up and we all have a good time. Please," she begged, pleading at him with her eyes. Playfully, she batted her eyelashes at him and smiled wide.

Bobby surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing. He threw his free arm around her and pulled her in for a hug, rocking them from side to side, before he planted a kiss on the top of her head. He leaned his head back and looked at her, a smile still on his face, this time his eyes were smiling at her as well. "Oh, Amy," he breathed. "I've missed you." He hugged her again. This time she pulled back and looked at him questioningly. "Okay, okay, you've convinced me," he chuckled. "I'll be your date tomorrow night. You'll have to tell me when and where, though. Work may mean I have to meet you there instead of here."

"That may work better; Trey and I have to be over there by noon to help get everything set up. I usually take everything I need with me and change there when we do these."

They were standing at the back door now, and Bobby opened it to allow her to go up the steps and enter before him. They made their way down the hall towards the front door. Amy stopped in her sitting room to write down the time and location for Bobby. He folded the piece of pale pink note paper in half and placed it in his pocket next to the picture he had shown her earlier. "What should I wear? Is this a formal occasion, or would a suit like this work fine?"

Amy smiled at him, taking in again just how handsome he looked tonight. "A suit like that will work just fine. Oh, you'd better leave your badge and gun in your car. I want everyone there to know you're my date, not the security detail." She flashed him another big smile and Bobby thought he would melt right there in the doorway.

He swallowed hard before he could speak. He kept his eyes on hers, unwilling to let the evening end. "Thank you for dinner," he said softly. "It was really good." Amy blushed under his intense gaze and compliments; Bobby thought she looked even more beautiful. He reached out and gently pushed her dark hair back behind her ear, as he did so, he heard Amy's sharp intake of breath and he looked intently at her, keeping his hand on her neck and caressing her cheek with his thumb as he spoke softly to her.

"I really did have a nice time. I know our conversation was hard and emotional, but I think it was necessary and worth it, don't you?" She nodded slightly, unable to take her eyes of him and unable to speak; the gentle caresses from his thumb were doing strange things to her voice and her thoughts were becoming jumbled. "We still have more to talk about, don't we?" Once again, Amy nodded dumbly. Bobby chuckled softly then, fully aware of the effect he was having on her. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then, okay?" Before she could nod, he leaned forward and planted the softest of kisses on her forehead then he slipped out her front door and was gone.


	22. Pillow Talk

**Chapter 22 Pillow Talk**

About 10 minutes after Bobby left, Amy heard a soft knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened and Trey entered the room. Most nights he came by to say goodnight. This was also their time to catch up on the day's events if they hadn't seen much of each other during the day. Amy could tell by the look on his face though, that Trey was not interested in her day. His usually handsome, smiling face was troubled and his soft brown eyes were lacking their usual sparkle.

He sat down on the end of her bed and watched her moving around the room, getting ready for bed. He noticed her eyes were red and swollen, like she had been crying. She cried a lot lately, he knew; some of her tears were for him, some were for Hudson, and some were for her own sadness over the loss of their beloved Laura. Lord knows he had shed plenty of those tears himself. But tonight, Trey had a sense that his mother's tears had come from a different source.

"How was dinner, Mom," he asked tentatively, broaching the subject carefully.

"Dinner went very well," she replied, stressing the 'dinner' part and leaving an unspoken insinuation hanging in the air.

"Grandpa said they had a very nice chat," Trey said casually.

"Oh, good," Amy said relieved. "I haven't spoken with Dad yet, and Bobby didn't look any the worse for wear, so I had already assumed Dad wasn't too hard on him." The two shared a chuckle and a small smile.

Amy ducked into the bathroom, calling out to Trey to tell her the latest on the wine tasting they would be putting on the next evening. Trey filled her in on all the last minute details and preparations as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. After she was done, she grabbed a notebook off her dressing table and they went over the next day's schedule on last time.

Satisfied they were in good shape for tomorrow, Amy set the notebook beside her on the bed and faced Trey. She crossed her legs in front of her, grabbed a pillow and placed it on her lap. She leaned on it and looked at Trey as she spoke. "Well?"

Every since he could remember, his Mom had always been available whenever he wanted or needed to talk. Even after he married Laura, he still found himself sitting on his mother's bed for a late night chat. Since Hudson had been born, the tone of their conversations and discussions had changed from that of son to mother to conversations between adults on a more equal footing with each other. She was still his mother, but Trey was finding her also to be more of a friend now that he was older and a parent himself.

"So, how did it go today? Christy said Hudson took to him right away."

"I think they took to each other right away," Amy corrected gently. "Did she tell you what happened in the kitchen while Hudson was eating?"

"Yes, she did," Trey said laughing. "Did Hudson really sling spaghetti all over your kitchen?"

"I wouldn't say it was 'all over' the kitchen, but there was quite a mess. Seems he spotted your father in the doorway, got all excited and started bouncing up and down like he does; pumping his legs and waving his arms. He forgot about having a loaded spoon in his hand, and well, things got pretty messy there for a minute. I even got spaghetti on me."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help," Trey told her apologetically. "These late afternoon phone calls are starting to kill me."

"How close are you to wrapping up the distributorship deal with Jakarta?" Amy was curious; Trey had been working on this deal for six months and they were all eager to have it finished and start selling their label in Indonesia.

"Hopefully by the end of next week. What would you think about going over there with me next month for the big unveiling?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful! I've always wanted to see Indonesia," Amy said excitedly. Then her shoulders sagged and her face fell. "But, what about Hudson? Do we take him with us? That's such a long trip. And now there's Bobby….." she let her voice fade away as she noticed the change on Trey's face at the mention of Bobby's name.

"Don't look at me like that, young man," she told him sternly. "He is your father and he's back in our lives now so that means we have to think about him in our plans, too."

Trey said nothing, but pursed his lips and took several deep breaths. He ran his fingers through his hair and rose gracefully from the bed, giving Amy pause. He moves as gracefully and easily as his father does, she thought to herself in awe. She watched her son pace agitatedly back and forth in front of her bed as he tried to sort out his thoughts and compose his next sentences carefully.

"Mom, are you sure you did the right thing by having him over here for dinner tonight," he finally asked her. Now it was his turn to study her carefully as she answered him.

"I wasn't at first, but I am now," she said.

"But you were crying," Trey began, moving over to kneel next to her at the foot of the bed.

"I know," she said. "What we had to say to each other wasn't easy. It brought back a lot of emotion and anger. He's been through a lot and would have benefitted from having us in his life during some pretty trying times. I had to realize that you missed out on a lot, too. I think you would have loved having a big, strong cop for a dad." She ran her fingers through his soft brown curls and smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry it took so long for you two to find each other. I'm sorry you missed out on so much because of my selfishness. I'm sorry I never was honest with him in the first place."

Trey took her hand in his and looked earnestly into her eyes. "Why weren't you, Mom?" He raised his other hand and shushed her with a gentle finger to her lips. "And don't tell me I wouldn't understand. I'm a grown adult, I have a child of my own, and I'm now a widower. I think I can handle it, so please, be honest with me, Mom. Why were you so scared?"

She looked lovingly at him and caressed his cheek as she spoke. "You look so much like your father," she said softly. "You walk like him, you talk like him; I'm even beginning to realize you think like him." She sighed softly and continued. "I was scared he wouldn't want me anymore. I thought I wouldn't get hurt as badly if I made the first move and broke it off with him. It wasn't until after I had hung up the phone that I realized just how much I loved him and how much I had hurt myself. Then, I foolishly thought it was too late…."

"So you never called him back," Trey finished the thought for her.

"I never called him back," she agreed, shaking her head sadly.

Trey surprised her then by getting up off the floor, sitting on the bed and pulling her into a hug. "Please don't ever be that foolish again," he said, kissing her on the top of her head. He pushed her back and looked at her. "I now have to raise Hudson without a mother, and it kills me. I hope if someone else comes along, I won't make the same mistake you did. I hope I can jump in with both feet and take the risk. I want you to find someone who is worth the risk." He gave her another hug then stood. "Goodnight, Mom. I love you."

She stood and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks Trey," she said honestly. "I love you, too. Can you ever forgive me?"

Trey walked to the door, then turned and looked at her. He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head to the left, an amused smile on his lips. "I already have, Mom. Couldn't you tell?" He blew her a kiss then slipped out the door.

Meanwhile…..

Bobby arrived home after his dinner at Amy's, his mind a roiling mass of thoughts and emotions. He had taken a big risk opening up to her like he did, and he knew he hurt her deeply, but it had to be done. He felt she needed to know what he had been through and how he could have benefitted from having her and Trey in his life. It felt good to tell her. He had also realized that he would like to have her back in his life. That thought had taken him by surprise and had captured his thoughts for most of his drive home.

It was still his main thought as he moved automatically around his apartment, emptying his pockets, removing his coat and tie, fixing himself a drink. He stopped with his hand on the bottle, the bottle on the shelf. No, no more alcohol tonight, he told himself sternly. He forced himself to close the cabinet, move to the other side of the kitchen, and fix a glass of water instead. He still had some serious thinking to do tonight and he needed a clear head.

He spied his cell phone on the counter. Eames, he remembered. I need to call Eames. She'll be furious with me if I don't, even if I show up at work tomorrow with coffee and her favorite pastry.

He decided to change clothes first, so he grabbed his cell phoned and took it and his glass of water with him into the bedroom. He changed into an old t-shirt that Eames had given him as a silly Christmas present several years ago. It was black and had "I'm with stupid" and a large yellow arrow pointing to the wearer's left printed on the front of it. Every now and then he'd pull it out and wear it, just to show her he appreciated the joke. He slipped into a pair of loose basketball shorts, suitable for sleeping in, and began to collect his thoughts.

He knew she was going to ask him how his visit at Amy's went. He replayed the evening in his mind, carefully sifting through and pulling out the bits he felt comfortable sharing with her. His visit with AJ was nice; eye-opening, but nice. Meeting Hudson, he should tell Eames about that, especially the spaghetti incident in the kitchen; he knew she'd really enjoy that. About his talk with Amy after dinner, he wasn't sure what to say except that they had both been open and honest with each other and still had more to work through and talk about. Maybe he'd even tell her about tomorrow night, too.

He opened his phone and was about to hit her speed dial number when it began to ring in his hand. He stared curiously at the unfamiliar number that glowed on the small screen in front of him. Who could this be, he wondered, pushing a button and raising the phone to his ear.

"Goren," he answered.

"Bobby," he heard a man's voice say hesitantly.

"Yes, this is Bobby," he said, his curiosity piqued.

"Uh, this is Trey. Trey Wainwright," the male voice said tentatively. "I hope it's not too late; you said I could call you. Anyway," he went on hurriedly, "I know you had dinner with Mom tonight and I wanted to see how it went. I hope it went well for you."

"No, it's not too late to call, Trey," Bobby reassured the young man. He was initially taken aback at learning the identity of his late night caller, but quickly realized he had a welcome opportunity to get to know his son just a little bit better.

"Dinner with your mom was nice. We talked; there's still more to talk about, but we made progress. At least, I think we made progress."

"That's good," Trey said softly.

An uncertain silence fell over their conversation, each feeling rather awkward and unsure of what to say next.

"I had thought I might see you this evening, but you weren't around. Trying to give us some privacy," Bobby teasingly asked.

Trey chuckled. "No, I had to work late. The winery is finalizing a distribution deal in Jakarta. The time difference means I have to stay late sometimes for teleconferences. I'm sorry about that; I had wanted to be there."

"Jakarta? Wow; that's great. Have you been there?"

"Yes. I have to go back in two weeks. I'm trying to get Mom to go with me…" he let his voice trail off.

"But…" Bobby encouraged Trey to go on.

"But, she said she can't because now there's you in the picture," Trey stopped suddenly and Bobby could hear the frustration in his voice.

Bobby sighed deeply and ran his free hand through his hair. He rose from the bed and began to pace in his bedroom. "Trey, I'm sorry. Would you like me to talk to her?"

"I want you to leave her alone!"

Bobby was silent.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I mean, um…part of me did, but, I….oh, damn! I don't know!" He could hear Trey take a deep breath, so he waited for the young man to continue.

"Oh, God! She'd been crying! I came home, went to check on her, and she'd been crying," Trey said vehemently. He was now pacing in his bedroom, gesturing with every word. "What did you say to her," he demanded.

"We had some difficult things to talk about and share with each other. I wasn't intent on making her cry, hurting her feelings, but if she and I are going to try to build a life together, we have to be honest with each other about what has happened. We each have 25 years to catch up on," Bobby explained.

"She deserves to have you treat her well," Trey stated forcefully.

"She deserves the truth," Bobby said back, equally as forceful. He heard Trey's sharp intake of breath and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Trey was silent before he answered. "I suppose I deserved that. Here I am telling you to treat her nicely and with respect, and you deserve that same treatment from me. I guess I'm so used to being the only man in her life; I've come to feel like her protector and defender. Having you here tonight, knowing she wants to reach out to you, well, it hurts, you know. I feel like she's interviewing you to be my replacement. I know that's not true, but I can't help feeling that way."

"Trey, I am sorry. This can't be easy on you. Hell, it isn't easy on me. I had no idea you existed. You, at least, had the advantage of knowing that somewhere in the world you had a father. I'm at a disadvantage here. I'm afraid we're all going to be a little sensitive about things for a while. Why don't we call it a night and meet for lunch? I know you and Amy will be busy tomorrow with the wine tasting, but how about Saturday?"

"You know about the wine tasting," Trey asked him.

"Yes. Your mother invited me to join her. She gave me the information. She also told me that a suit and tie similar to what I wore this evening would be appropriate."

"You know where the Mansfield Gallery in SoHo is?"

"No, but I can look it up when I get into work tomorrow. So, how about lunch on Saturday?"

"I can't. Laura's funeral is Saturday," Trey said sadly.

"When and where," Bobby asked.

"Wha-? No, you don't have to be there," Trey insisted.

"Yes, I do. I'm your father. Your wife was just killed. You need to have your family there with you. ALL of your family. I'll sit in the back; you won't even know I'm there."

"Do you have any idea how that would go over with my mom? If she finds you sitting the back, she'll have your head on a platter. No, you can sit in the pew behind us. That way you're there, but not so obtrusive. Would that work for you," Trey asked.

"Okay, I can handle that. I think it's a very smart compromise. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there."

Trey gave Bobby the information about the funeral, and the two men made plans to have lunch on Sunday. They told each other good night, hung up, and finished getting ready for bed. Trey was satisfied that Bobby wasn't as big a threat to his life as he had feared, especially after finding his mom so upset. Bobby was satisfied that Trey had grown up to be a fine young man, one of whom any father would be proud.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Bobby timed his arrival at work that morning to be precisely 5 minutes before Eames'. He strategically placed on her desk a steaming cup of coffee, fixed just the way she liked it. Next to it was a small Styrofoam plate bearing her favorite pastry. He carefully removed the plastic wrap and laid a napkin to the left of the plate. The last touch was a plastic fork she could use to eat her pastry if she so desired. He then made himself scarce; he felt the bathroom would be the best option. He could hide out there for a few minutes, then casually re-enter the squad room a few minutes after Eames did.

When Eames entered two minutes later, she found the arrangement on her desk and her partner strangely absent. She shrugged out of her jacket and shoved her bag into her desk drawer. She took one more look around the squad room in an attempt to find Goren, but the aroma of the coffee overcame her and she gave in, grabbing the cup as she sat down in her chair. The coffee was as wonderful as it smelled and she couldn't help but smile.

"Coffee to your liking," she heard her partner ask softly.

Eames looked up to see him sitting down into his chair. "It's wonderful; thank you," she told him gratefully. "I suppose the pastry and the place setting are a peace offering, since you forgot to call me last night," she said pointedly.

He ducked his head sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, um, yeah. But I can explain," he told her next, looking up at her. "Trey called."

"Oh," Eames asked him curiously.

"Yeah. He was curious how dinner had gone and was also upset because Amy had been crying."

"Crying? What did you do her, Bobby? Tell her you weren't interested," Eames accused him.

"No. We had a lot of hard stuff to talk about. I told her how much easier my life would have been these last 25 years if they had been in it. How hard it was with Mom in Carmel Ridge, Frank's drug and alcohol problems, and how I would have loved to have been around to be a father to Trey and have them as a counterpoint to all the other problems. I opened a lot of old wounds for her last night, Eames. It wasn't easy for her to hear. She felt understandably guilty and upset. It wasn't all tears, though. I got to meet Hudson," he told her.

"Hudson?"

He swallowed hard before he continued. "My grandson," he reminded her. "I'm now officially Hudson's "Boppy," he told her with a smile.

"Boppy, huh? I like that. It has a nice ring to it," Eames smiled at him. "It's hard to imagine you're really old enough to be a grandfather."

"Yeah, it's hard for me to believe, too, and I met the little guy. What's on the docket for today? I'm going to a big wine tasting at the Mansfield Gallery in SoHo this evening, and I need to leave early so I can get ready."

"The Mansfield Gallery? I'm impressed; you're really moving up in the world, Bobby."

Bobby tilted his head to the side slightly and cocked an eyebrow at her in question.

"Is this another date with Amy," Eames asked curiously.

"Not really. She and Trey are putting on the wine tasting as a promotion for the vineyard and the label. Amy asked me if I'd like to join her there, and I said yes. Oh, what are you doing on Saturday?"

"Saturday? I was going out to my sister's in the afternoon. I promised my nephew we'd try out a new video game he got last week. Why?"

"Laura's funeral is Saturday morning at St. Mark's. I told Trey I'd be there, but I thought you might want to go as well, since we worked the case." He wrote the information down on a slip of paper and handed it across the desk to her. She took it from him and studied it carefully.

"I can be there Bobby. I think it would be good for us both to be there, to represent the department. You think Ross would want to go?"

"I don't know," Bobby answered her. "I'll give him the information as well and let him decide. Back to my earlier question, what have we got to do today?"

Eames handed him a stack of folders. "These. We've been asked to review some of our cold cases from the last three years and run information back through the system, see if anything new pops up. I've already sorted out the ones that interested you the most back then."

Bobby looked at her as he took the folders from her. "Well then, here's to something new popping up." They exchanged small knowing smiles and began working.

By noon, it was very obvious to the two detectives that there was nothing new for them to follow up on. Bobby had tried to find patterns to connect the cases; Eames had run names through countless computer data bases; both had made numerous phone calls. All dead ends. Eames sighed and got Bobby's attention.

He looked up at her.

"You hungry? I just realized I'm starving."

Bobby looked at his watch. "Yeah, I could go for some lunch. It's 12:30. What are you in the mood for?"

"How about that sandwich shop we went to last week? I'm buying." She pulled her purse out of her desk, stood and grabbed her jacket. Bobby followed her to the elevator.

By four o'clock that afternoon, there was no reason for either one of them to stay any longer, and Ross was eager to pick up his boys for the weekend, so Bobby and Alex left the squad room. On the way home, Bobby thought about Eames's reaction to Hudson slinging his spaghetti-laden spoon in the air at the sight of Bobby; he had shared more of his evening with Eames over lunch. "Sounds like the little guy likes you already," she had told him with a smile. She had been pleased at the good outcome of his visit, in spite of the difficult talk he and Amy had to have.

Bobby noticed his anxiety over getting reacquainted with Amy had eased significantly since telling Eames how last night had gone, and he was now looking forward to this evening. It would be quite interesting to see the kinds of people that frequented these society events and how they interacted with each other. He hadn't had a nice evening of people watching in quite some time, and found himself looking forward to it as he showered and dressed.

As he was tying his tie, his cell phone rang. Picking it up, he saw Eames' name and number on the front screen and cringed inwardly.

"This better not be a call out," he stated by way of answering.

"It isn't," Eames answered him. He could hear the smile in her voice through the phone. "What are you wearing?"

"Clothes," he told her with a smile.

"Idiot," she said. She heard him chuckle softly in her ear and couldn't help but smile at the sound. It had been a long time since he was joking and teasing with her like this and she was glad; it meant he was feeling better about life.

"I'm wearing my black suit with the grey pinstripes."

"Shirt?"

"Blue."

"Tie?"

"The one you gave me."

"Nice. Tell Amy I said "Hi."

"I will. You got plans?"

"There's a Cary Grant movie on AMC tonight. Don't smirk," she said snidely.

"I'm not smirking, Eames," Bobby replied defensively.

"Yes, you are. You always smirk over my movie choices."

"Goodnight, Eames," he told her with a smile in his voice.

"Goodnight, Bobby. Have fun." She hung up the phone, leaving Bobby to deal with tying his tie. He left his apartment with a smile on his face and a spring in his step, something he hadn't had in a long time.

Bobby arrived early at the gallery. He had planned it that way, so that he could get some time with Amy and Trey before the event began. As Bobby entered the gallery, one of the employees stopped him and asked for his name, then informed him that he was not on the guest list, so he would have to leave as this was a private function for gallery members only.

Bobby looked at the cute young lady with the clipboard and gave her one of his most charming smiles. "But I wouldn't be on the guest list," he told her mischievously. He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially into her ear, "I'm Ms. Wainwright's date." He pulled back, winked at her, and walked away, leaving the stunned young lady staring at his broad back as he made his way across the gallery.

Amy looked up as she heard someone approaching the alcove where she and Trey were setting up the tasting display. "I know that look," she said with a smile. "You've been charming the girls up front, haven't you?"

"Who, me," Bobby tried vainly to feign innocence. "The famous Goren charm. Never fails to get me in the door." He then surprised her by walking up to her, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her to his side to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. "Need any help?"

"I do," came a strained voice from behind him. Bobby turned to see Trey struggling to steer a hand cart loaded with cases of wine. Bobby was over to the cart in a few broad strides and easily lifted the top two cases.

"Where do these go?"

Amy looked at the writing stamped on them and pointed across the gallery. "Those are white wines. They will be over in the south alcove. Samantha is over there; she'll tell you where to put them."

Bobby made his way carefully to the alcove Amy had indicated and found a pretty red head busily placing glasses on a table. "Are you Samantha," he asked.

She looked up and smiled. "You must be Bobby. Amy told me you would be coming as her date," she explained at his look of confusion. "I'm Amy's Events Manager. Just stack those back here next to the others, please."

Samantha studied the man as he set the boxes down and was still scrutinizing him as he stood back up. "If you don't mind my asking….I can't help but notice…well, um, what I mean is…are you Trey's father," she blurted out, then quickly became embarrassed at her forwardness. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I should have asked Amy that question."

Bobby looked at her, tilted his head to one side and considered his answer. "Yes, I am and yes, you probably should have. I guess I need to be prepared to have Amy's friends and associates asking that question, huh?"

"Well, the resemblance is uncanny. I can see where Trey gets his charm and good looks, though," she said with a smile.

Now it was Bobby's turn to be embarrassed. "You'd better get used to it," Samantha teased. "Amy's friends are going to figure it out right away, and they won't be as tactful as I was. It might even get ugly. You're also going to be a conversation piece in the gossip circle. Showing up at an event like this after all this time, it's going to be a shock to everyone, you know? Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for your help." She turned back to arranging the glasses on the table.

Bobby stood there for a moment, realizing he had just been summarily dismissed as well as trying to take in what she had just told him. She had revealed more to him in those few sentences than Amy had the night before in the garden. He thought about what Samantha had said as he made his way back to the other side of the gallery. Who was he to think he could just walk back into her life and be accepted? He wasn't a part of this group of people; Amy's peers were either born or married into this level of society, and he was neither. Would being Trey's father be enough to cause her friends and peers to give him a chance?

Bobby nearly ran into Trey, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts. The sound of breaking glass brought him back. "I'm sorry; I didn't see you there. Let me go find a broom." He turned, but Trey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," the young man said. "You were a million miles away. What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, just something Samantha said. It's nothing. Now, is there something I can do to help where I can't break anything," he said with a smile.

Several hours later, Bobby was carrying a tray of glasses filled with Wainwright Reserve Merlot, passing them out to the guests milling around the gallery. He stopped before a group of older women and offered them each a glass. One of the ladies smiled at him and said, "Which wine is this?"

"This is the 2006 Wainwright Reserve Merlot, one of three wines currently bearing the Wainwright Estates Reserve label. What do you think?"

"I think it's marvelous," the lady next to her commented. "Would you serve this with cheese?"

"Cheese, if it's sharp cheddar, maybe even Brie. I personally would serve this with a good steak, grilled salmon, or even lamb. I think it's my personal favorite," he grinned broadly at them. "And, I would always serve it to ladies as fine as you." The group tittered and preened under his attention, and he was chuckling to himself as he moved off to the next group.

These ladies were closer in age to Amy, he noticed, and they were watching him intently. He felt the hackles on his neck begin to rise as they continued to study him as he approached. One woman, wearing a very low-cut red dress, brazenly swept her gaze from his head to his toes and back up again, clearly enjoying the journey. He offered them each a glass in turn and was about to move off when he felt a hand on his arm.

He looked down to see bright red nail polish on perfectly manicured nails gripping his arm. He looked up into the eyes of "red dress" as he would refer to her later.

"This is an absolutely fabulous Cabernet," she purred, looking up at him with obvious interest. "You must tell us all about it. My friends and I are very interested in wine, you know."

Bobby turned and looked at the four ladies standing with her. He gently shrugged his shoulder to disengage the red finger nails from his sleeve and focused his attention on the group. He seriously doubted anyone in this group was really interested in wine. "This happens to be a Merlot," he began, stressing the word Merlot. "It is one of three wines currently bearing the Wainwright Estates Reserve label; an honor given to wines made only from the best grapes on the Estate. It goes best with red meat, lamb, heavy pasta, strong-flavored cheeses and meaty fish such as salmon and tuna. Any other questions?" He was almost afraid to ask, but knew he would be remiss in his duties as a host, a favor to Amy he had gladly undertaken when she had found out at the last minute that she was short-handed one server.

"Yes. I have a question." It was "red dress" and the look in her eyes was positively malicious as she leered at Bobby. "You wouldn't happen to be Trey's daddy, would you?" The other women gasped at the audacity of the woman, but seemed all too eager to hear what his answer would be.

Bobby leaned over and spoke softly into her ear. The other ladies couldn't hear what was said, but did notice the look of shock and embarrassment that suddenly overcame their companion's face. She reeled back away from Bobby as he smoothly turned on his heel and gracefully moved off.

Amy had been watching from a short distance away. She knew that particular group of women were vicious gossips and prided themselves on knowing and telling everyone's secrets. She had never seen anyone cause them that much shock and embarrassment and couldn't wait to find out what Bobby had said. Talking to Bobby would have to wait, however, as the owner of the gallery was making his way towards her. She sighed as she checked her watch. This was the part of the evening she liked the least: being drug in front of the group to talk about the winery and the wines they had been sampling. She looked around for Trey, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Are you ready," Mr. Mansfield asked her. She looked at him wearily. "I know, Amy; this is not your favorite thing to do, but I can't find Trey…"

"Well then, let's get it over with, shall we?" She put her arm through his and allowed him to lead her towards the middle of the gallery. Suddenly, Bobby appeared at her side. She smiled gratefully at him.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Yes," Amy said, relieved. "Stand with us. I have to talk about the winery and the wines for a few minutes. Trey usually does this part, but I can't find him."

"Sure," Bobby replied. He began to scan the top of the crowd, looking for Trey. He spotted Samantha off to the side, and raised his eyebrows at her in question while mouthing Trey's name. She shrugged and shook her head, then slipped off towards the back of the gallery.

Mr. Mansfield introduced Amy to his guests, then stepped back and stood next to Bobby. Bobby was on heightened alert, his cop instincts in high gear and his gut screaming that something was wrong. Don't panic, Bobby, he told himself sternly. Just stay calm, keep scanning the area. What do you see? Who's out of place? As he kept looking around, he noticed Samantha at the back of the group, waving her hand to get his attention. She flashed him an okay sign and a quick smile. He exhaled and relaxed slightly.

When Amy was finished with her talk, Bobby stepped forward, took her elbow and steered her towards Samantha.

"Where's Trey," he asked her urgently.

"Trey's fine. He's on his way to the hospital"—Amy gasped, but Samantha put her hand on Amy's shoulder and smiled at her sympathetically. "It's okay, Ms. Wainwright. It's Hudson. Seems he got scared and tried to climb out of his crib. The nanny thinks he may have broken his arm when he fell, so she and Mr. Wainwright called on their way to the emergency room. Trey left to meet them over there. He asked me to tell you that he would call you as soon as he has anything to tell you."

"Bobby, can you stay and help clean up? Then I'd like you to take me to the hospital, if you wouldn't mind. Trey and I rode over here together and now I don't have a car," Amy told him as she fought back the tears.

Bobby gave her a hug. "Sure, Amy; I'm here. Whatever you need."

An hour and a half later, the gallery had been restored to order and the catering crew was pulling away in their van. Samantha gave Amy's arm a squeeze and promised to call her in the morning. Trey had called earlier and said that Hudson had fractured his ulna and would be fine. Bobby and Amy walked quietly out to his car and got in.

As they drove away, Bobby asked Amy what hospital they needed to go to. "Manhattan General," Amy replied. "Daddy knows the director of the ER; they're old Army buds." She smiled feebly at him and reached over and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said. "You didn't have to do all this; you were just my date for the evening. I really appreciate it."

"My pleasure," he said, smiling back at her. Her smile could still make his heart skip a beat. "I told you, I'm here, Amy. I'll do whatever you need me to do." She shook her head. "No, no, I mean it, Amy. We're back in each other's lives now, and like it or not, we are a family. What exactly that means at this point and how it's going to all work out, I don't know; I can't predict the future. But what I do know is that I'm going to take you to the hospital and together WE are going to check on OUR grandson. Then I'm going to take you home. You need to get your sleep before the funeral tomorrow."

"The funeral. You know about the funeral?"

"Trey told me. Eames and I will both be there; as much to extend our condolences from the department as my being there because I'm Trey's father. I hope you don't mind."

"It doesn't seem like I could stop you from going even if I did mind," Amy said, a slightly perturbed tone tingeing her voice as she pulled her hand out of his. She shifted in her seat and looked out the window. Bobby left her to her own thoughts as they arrived at the hospital and he pulled into an available parking spot. It was technically for NYPD, so Bobby reached across Amy to pull his hang tag out of the glove box and flipped it over the rear view mirror. He turned to face her, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, the other extended across the back of the seat.

"Look at me," he said firmly. She turned her head; he could see she'd been crying. He swore under his breath, inhaled deeply and continued. "I understand why you're so hesitant to have me back in your life; it's been a long time for us and we need to go slowly. But, please, don't tell me I can't be a part of Trey's; not now. I told him I would be at the funeral tomorrow, and I meant it. Maybe you don't want me there; that's fine, I can handle that; but Trey needs me there and I need to be there for him." He pointed towards the Emergency Room entrance. "And in there, is a little boy who needs to see his grandmother."

Bobby got out of the car and walked around to the other side. He opened the door. Amy was still sitting there, stunned by what he had said and still somewhat in shock over what had happened to Hudson. Bobby reached in and unbuckled her seatbelt, then he gently took her hand and tugged her arm. Numbly, she allowed him to guide her out of his car and waited while he reached back into the glove box for his shield. He shut the door and pocketed his shield, then turned and looked at her. He reached for her again, this time taking her hand and gently tucking it under his arm and into his elbow. She leaned into him for support and he smiled faintly as he led them inside.


	24. Too Many Angry People

**Chapter 24 Too Many Angry People**

Amy was furious. Not only was Bobby at Laura's funeral, but so were the photographers. She should have expected it, but she was still angry. What should have been a quiet time of mourning and remembrance for the Edwards and the Wainwrights was now a show.

She had been somewhat relieved that Bobby showed up with his partner, Alexandra Eames and his captain, Daniel Ross. That way it looked like they were there representing the NYPD, even though they sat behind Trey, in the family section, at Trey's insistence. She would take that up with Trey later. After all, she reminded herself often, this was Trey's and the Edwards' funeral to plan for Laura, not hers. Bobby did have a point after all; his reminder of his place as Trey's father and the fact that he and Amy were a family last night was still ringing in her ears this morning. Bobby did belong here, even though she felt like her world was falling apart around her now that he knew about Trey.

Having Bobby with her at the hospital last night had been a God-send. The receptionist had been hesitant to let her go back and find Trey and Hudson, but Bobby flashed his badge and ushered her quickly back through the swinging doors. He had been right; Hudson was very eager to see his grandmother and was also happy to see Bobby as well. Hudson was sporting a lime green cast on his lower arm and a drowsy expression on his face from a pain shot that had been recently administered.

Bobby had slipped out shortly thereafter, leaving Trey and Amy to check Hudson out and take him home. He had graciously offered to give Christy a ride back to retrieve her car, then had gone home for the evening himself. Eames picked him up in the morning for the ride over to St. Mark's for the funeral. They met up with Captain Ross in the parking lot just as the first of the photographers made his appearance.

"This could get ugly," Ross told his two detectives quietly as he pointed towards the photographer. "That one is from the Post, and he's notoriously aggressive."

"Damn it," said Eames. "Can't they give it a rest for a funeral? What is with people these days?"

"Come on," Bobby said, urging them to move. "Let's see if we need to run interference for the Edwards or the Wainwrights." They had been needed, and the families were grateful. Once inside, the funeral went off without a hitch, all photographers having been banned from the premises, and other doors locked and guarded. The guards had been Captain Ross's contribution to the occasion, having realized that without a few discreetly placed fellow officers, the church was doomed to be overrun with flashbulbs.

Eames had noticed Amy's displeasure at Trey's insistence that the three of them be seated behind the family. She wondered if it was because they were police or because it was not Amy's idea for them to be there in the first place. She would have to talk to Bobby about that; it sent up red flags to think that Amy might only want Bobby around at her convenience.

After the church service had concluded, Bobby, Alex and Captain Ross were heading towards the side exit when Dennis Edwards approached them.

"Detective Goren," he said. Bobby turned and recognized the man.

"Mr. Edwards," Bobby said as he extended his hand in greeting. "I'm so sorry for your loss. The whole department extends their condolences as well." Bobby introduced Captain Ross to the man and reintroduced Alex.

"Thank you for coming," Dennis said, nodding at all three of them. "Detective Goren, I'm sorry for you as well. I didn't realize who you were the other day. We, my wife and I were both so distraught I didn't even pay attention to what you looked like or I would have said something then. Trey tells me you didn't know at the time; I'm sorry for that, too. You've missed out on a lot. We'd like you to come to our house after the internment."

Bobby shook his head at that last statement, but Dennis placed a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder. "No, no. We insist. You need to come. We'd like you to learn about Laura; you'd've really loved her. Hudson and Christy are over there right now; I'm sure he'd love to see you, too." At the mention of Hudson's name, Bobby caved in.

Bobby sighed. "Okay, but only if Eames can come, too."

Dennis smiled at Alex and nodded. "Absolutely. Captain Ross, you're invited, too."

"I'm going to have to decline, thank you," Ross said politely. "I'm taking my boys to the baseball game this afternoon." He looked at his watch. "In fact, if I don't leave now, we'll be late." He extended his hand to Mr. Edwards. "Again, I'm very sorry for your loss. Laura's murder affected all of us in the department greatly."

"Thank you again for all your hard work, Captain. My wife and I appreciate everything you all have done. Enjoy the game." Mr. Edwards shook the Captain's hand and smiled weakly.

"Detectives," Ross said by way of goodbye, nodding at them as he ducked out the side entrance.

Dennis gave Bobby and Alex his address, then returned to rest of the family.

"Well," said Alex. "Do you want to go to the cemetery, or just head over to the Edwards and introduce me to your grandson?"

"Let's go check on Hudson," Bobby said, smiling at her. "I think you'll really like the little guy."

Once they were situated in Alex's SUV and headed towards the Edwards' home on Long Island, Eames asked Bobby a question.

"Bobby, why you do think Amy was so upset to see you at the funeral this morning?"

"I don't know. She got upset last night when she found out I knew about it and that Trey had asked me to be there. I told her that I was part of Trey's life now and she had no right to shut me out. We didn't get much of a chance to talk more; we were at the hospital by then and turned our attention to Hudson and Trey. Why? Something bothering you?"

"Yeah. She seems to only want you around at her convenience." Bobby turned his head quickly and looked at her sharply. "Bobby, I'm serious. Why did she never tell you all these years? She had to have known you were living and working in New York. Your picture's been in the paper numerous times for awards, citations, arrests. You've even been on TV a time or two. You can't tell me she hasn't known all this time. So why hadn't she told you? Was she hoping you'd never find out?"

Bobby was silent as he thought about what Alex had said. He had been asking himself the same questions lately, and didn't have any good answers, only speculation. He had come to value Eames' insight, especially where women were concerned, so he decided to ask her opinion. "I'm not sure. I do know she's been scared."

"Scared? What did she have to be afraid of?"

"She was hurt pretty badly by a boyfriend she had been dating right before we met. I think she's been afraid that I would be mad and leave her, too. That finding out she was pregnant would make me hate her, not want her around."

"She didn't know you very well, did she," Eames commented with a small shake of her head. "Are you going to talk to her about it?"

"If I'm going to continue be around Trey and Hudson, I'm going to have to," Bobby stated emphatically. "It'll end up being the elephant in the room if I don't. I can't be around her without knowing how she feels and what she wants. By the way, there's something about all this that I've been meaning to ask you," Bobby said, turning in his seat to face Eames. "Did you plant those photos in that file last week?"

Eames sighed and kept her eyes on the road ahead of her. "Eames," Bobby questioned her. "Did you put those photos in that file?"

"You were going to find out eventually, and she certainly didn't seem like she was in a hurry to tell you, so, I, uh….yeah. I did." She looked over at him hesitantly. "Bobby I'm sorry, but you needed to know…." Her voice trailed off as Bobby turned his head and looked out the window.

"How long have you known," he asked softly.

"Since the case file first came in. We didn't really _know_, we suspected."

"We?"

"Ross knew." Bobby sighed and Eames rushed to explain. "Bobby, I had to tell him. As soon as I saw the pictures, I suspected. He had to see them. It was his decision to pull those pictures out of the case file, to keep things as unbiased as possible. He had no choice but to keep us on the case, given who was involved…." Her voice trailed off as she saw Bobby run his hands across the back of his neck and over his eyes. "I'm sorry, Bobby. It was the best way."

"I know. I thought it was you, and I was prepared to be really mad at you, but after speaking with Amy and then Trey…and having time to think things through….well, thank you."

Eames looked at him in shock. "You're not mad at me?"

"How could I be mad at you? You're my partner; you look out for me. If you did anything wrong it was in my best interest. I trust you, Eames, more than I've trusted anyone in a long time. And after everything I've gone through in the last year with work and my Mom, well, I'm glad you're my partner. I've also come to realize something else." He looked at her seriously.

Eames cast another glance at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"You're also my friend. And I don't thank you or acknowledge you enough for that. But I'm trying to change, Eames. I really am."

She reached over, took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I know, Bobby," she said. "I can tell, and I appreciate it. Thank you, too."

They smiled at each other and continued their drive out to the Edwards' home.

Christy greeted them at the door of the Edwards' modest home in a quiet Long Island suburb. Bobby introduced her to Alex, and she led the two of them towards the back of the house. "We've been playing out in the back yard; it's such a pretty day today. I hope you don't mind sitting out on the back porch with me."

"Not at all," Bobby told her warmly. He paused by the sofa long enough to pull off his tie and stuff it into his jacket pocket, then he removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. As they made their way out onto the back porch, he undid the top few buttons and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Eames looked at him askance. "The first time I saw Hudson, he nearly knocked me over. I figure this time he's going to want me to play with him, so I'm getting prepared." Eames smiled in understanding.

Hudson was pushing his trucks around in the sand box when the three adults stepped out onto the back porch. His eyes lit up when he turned his head to see who had come out into the yard.

"Boppy," he yelled. "Look! Truck!" He stood and held up a yellow plastic truck for the adults to inspect. He was covered in sand, and his lime green cast glowed in the sunlight.

"Hey, Hudson," Bobby called out as he made his way over to the sand box. "Can I see your truck?" He squatted down next to Hudson and began to inspect the youngster's truck.

"If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it," Eames said to the nanny.

"Believe what?"

"That my partner is a grandfather," Eames said in amazement.

Christy just smiled and sat back down on the porch swing. Alex decided to walk around the yard. She noticed the flower beds and the neat bushes that bordered the fence. She also saw the swing set that appeared to have seen numerous kids playing on it over the years, but now had a plastic child's swing hanging from it.

"Hey, Alex," Bobby called to her from across the yard. He never called her Alex, which surprised her, until she realized that Hudson was pointing at her. Bobby must be wanting to introduce her. She hurried over to the sandbox and perched herself carefully on the edge. Bobby was now sitting in the sand next to Hudson, his shoes and socks cast off in the grass, and sand all over his black pants.

"Hudson, this is Alex. She works with me. We catch bad guys," Bobby said.

"Hi, Hudson," Alex said with a smile.

"Hi Alwicks," Hudson said, trying to wrap his little tongue around her name. "We gots trucks!" He held one out for her to inspect. "See."

"I see," said Alex; she knew from being around her nephew that it was important to appreciate a little boy's trucks, so she studied it carefully. "That's a great truck. What happened to your arm?"

"I bwoke it," he said matter-of-factly, and then returned to pushing the truck through the sand.

"Bobby, you're not planning on riding home in my car like that, are you?" She pointed to his sandy slacks.

"What's wrong with my pants? It'll shake right off, I promise."

Eames glared at him.

"Okay, if I leave sand in your car, I'll sweep it out for you."

"You certainly will," she told him.

Christy called out to them that she was going inside to get something to drink and would they like her to bring them back drinks?

"Joosh," cried Hudson. "Peeze?"

"Okay," said Christy, chuckling. "Juice for Hudson. Bobby? Alex? Anything for you?"

Alex stood and dusted the sand of her pants. "I'd love a glass of water. Bobby?"

"Sure, water's fine for me, thanks," he said to Alex with a smile. Alex grinned as Hudson began to drive his truck up Bobby's broad back, complete with sound effects. Bobby smiled even bigger. I've never seen him happier, she thought as she turned and followed Christy into the house.

About 2 hours later, the Edwards arrived from the cemetery, along with Trey and Amy and Patty and AJ Wainwright. Other family members and friends followed and soon the Edwards home was overflowing with Laura's friends and family, sharing stories and offering their condolences. Many neighbors and members of the Edwards' church had brought food and drink to the house, and soon everyone was eating and visiting. A photo album was pulled out, and stories from Laura's childhood were shared. The afternoon became one of celebration tinged with sorrow as the memories and stories flowed throughout the home.

Alex had noticed Amy and Trey when they came in, and she immediately went over to re-introduce herself and to offer her condolences. Trey greeted her warmly and thanked her for her help with the photographers at the church and also for coming to the house. Alex had insisted that it was her pleasure to be there and to have been able to help. She extended condolences on behalf of Captain Ross and the rest of the department as well.

Amy had been cooler towards her than Trey had; a fact which did not go unnoticed by Alex. She was also aware that Amy had looked around the living room suddenly, and knew she was curious as to where Bobby was. "If you're looking for Bobby, he's in the back yard," Alex told her.

"Oh?" Amy looked at her surprised. "What's he doing out there?"

"Last time I saw him, he was sitting in the sandbox with Hudson, covered with sand and grinning like an idiot while Hudson drove trucks up and down his back and over his arms and legs. I think he's enjoying the whole Granddad thing," Eames said with a smile.

"I gotta see this," Trey said. "Excuse me, please." He moved off towards the back door, leaving Amy to face Alex on her own.

"Do you have a problem with us being here," Alex asked her boldly.

Amy merely looked at the petite woman standing in front of her and said nothing. Then she turned to walk away.

"Because Mr. Edwards invited us," Eames told her. Amy stopped, then turned back around to face Alex. "I thought it was rather nice of him," Eames continued. "He felt that Bobby should get to know them better, since he is Trey's father."

Alex saw Amy's eyes narrow when she mentioned Trey's parentage.

"Do you have a problem with Bobby being Trey's father," Alex asked her next, surprising Amy. "Or is your problem with him wanting to be around? You'd better get used to it, because I can tell you this, now that Bobby knows about Trey and Hudson, he's not going anywhere. I don't know who you think you are that you can just tell Bobby and then expect him to leave again without wanting to stick around and get to know his son better. If that's what you think, then you don't really know Bobby at all. He's the best thing that ever happened to you, but you never gave him a chance. That's all he wants, Amy. A chance. If you're not willing to him one, then you'd better go out there and tell him now, but don't expect him to leave for good. Like I said before, he's not going anywhere now that he's got Trey and Hudson."

It had been a struggle for Alex to keep her voice low as her anger flared, but she managed to do so. "Excuse me, I'm going back outside. I need some fresh air." She turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Amy to consider her harsh words.

Back outside, Alex noticed that Trey had grabbed a camera and was taking pictures of Bobby and Hudson playing in the sandbox. She approached them and got Bobby's attention.

"Bobby, I have to go now. I just remembered my play date with my nephew this afternoon. It's going to take me a while to get back into town and then out to my sisters'. Will you be able to get a ride back into town?"

"I'll take him back," said Trey. He extended his hand to Alex. "Thank you again for coming. It means a lot to me to have the two of you here."

Bobby looked studiously at Alex. Then he lifted Hudson off his lap and stood up, dusting his pants, and telling his grandson that he would be right back. He stepped out of the sandbox and grabbed his drink. "I need a refill," he said and followed Alex back into the house. Pausing in the kitchen he said to Alex, "We need to talk."

"Bobby," she began.

"Don't 'Bobby' me; I can see it in your face. Something's bothering you. We'll talk out front."

As they made their way through the house to the front door, Alex stopped long enough to thank the Edwards for their invitation and to again offer her condolences. She also said goodbye to the Wainwrights.

Out in the front yard, she turned to face Bobby. "Okay, we're out front. What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be," Eames responded defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know, maybe because the look in your eyes back there said otherwise?" Bobby raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side. Eames sighed. She should know better than to try to slip anything past Bobby; he was too good at reading people to miss much.

"I talked to Amy. I was upset at her reaction to seeing me when she got here and I told her…" she looked away, unable to face him, not wanting to upset him as well.

"Told her what, Eames?"

Alex kept quiet and continued to look away from him.

"Eames," he said sternly, gripping her upper arms gently but firmly to get her attention. "What did you say to Amy," he asked tersely.

"I told her the Edwards invited us. Then she was looking for you. She didn't seem thrilled to learn that you were playing in the sandbox with Hudson."

"Is that all?"

Eames sighed; she knew she was beaten so she took a deep breath and answered him directly. "I told her you weren't going anywhere." She saw Bobby's questioning look and continued. "I told her that now that you knew about Trey and Hudson, you were going to be around whether she liked it or not. That they were part of your life now and she'd better get used to it."

Eames saw his eyes grow larger and his mouth grow tense. "Bobby, I'm sorry, but it's the truth, and she needed to hear it." Eames stood her ground and met his eyes with a stern look of her own.

He relaxed his hold on her arms, sighed, then dropped his hands. Reluctantly, he stepped back from her. She saw his expression change as he closed himself off from her. That was not what she wanted at all, not now, not after he seemed to be coming out of the hard shell he had buried himself in since his mother's death nearly a year ago. Damn it, she thought to herself. Don't you go hiding on me now, Bobby.

"Go play with your nephew, Eames," he said coolly, turning and walking away from her and back into the house, ignoring her as she called out his name.


	25. A Lonely Man is a Dangerous Thing

**Chapter 25 A Lonely Man is a Dangerous Thing**

The first person Bobby saw when he walked back inside was AJ Wainwright. He had a beer in each hand and appeared to be waiting for Bobby.

"Here," said AJ, handing Bobby one of the beers. "I think you need this. Amy's upstairs in Laura's old room with Patty and Leslie."

"Thanks," Bobby said. He took a long pull on his beer, then met AJ's gaze. "Is she okay?"

"I won't know until Patty comes back down and tells me."

Bobby looked at AJ curiously.

AJ took a swig of his beer and swallowed before he replied to Bobby's inquiring look. "When they get like this, I stay away," he said with a wry smile. He clapped Bobby on the shoulder. "I'd stay away, too, if I were you." He walked away, headed toward the kitchen.

Bobby began to move slowly around the Edwards' living room. He noticed several family pictures and picked one up to study it. He recognized Laura and her parents, but only assumed the two others, a man and a woman, were relatives. Both looked similar to Laura, the young man nearly identical to Dennis.

"That's Denny, Jr.," came a husky female voice. Bobby turned to his right to find himself staring into the green eyes of the young woman standing next to Laura in the picture. "Hi," she said, extending her hand to Bobby. "I'm Judith, Laura's older sister. And that," she pointed to the young man in the picture, "is our brother, Denny, Jr."

"I'm Robert," he said, shaking the woman's hand. She was cool as a cucumber, her wavy brunette hair perfectly styled and her make-up impeccable. Judith was about 5'6", just coming up to his shoulder, and her figure was luscious; not too thin and not too full. When she spoke, her voice reminded him of Lauren Hutton or Kathleen Turner: deep, husky, seductive and inviting. Bobby thought she was a slightly darker version of Laura, but more aloof. The Laura he saw in all the pictures was bright and smiling with dancing eyes while Judith was more….Bobby searched for a word to describe her but kept coming back to aloof, with a cool beauty; almost snobbish but not quite.

"Treys' father," Judith stated, giving him an appraising look. "And Amy didn't snatch you up and marry you because…" her voice trailed off and a single eyebrow rose in a silent question.

"Because…you would have to ask Amy." He studied her intently as he took another sip of his beer. "You look very familiar. Have we met before?"

"I don't think so. I would definitely remember meeting someone as handsome as you," she told him flirtingly.

Bobby ignored the alarm bells that began going off in the back of his head and continued to rack his brain for an elusive memory.

"I know who you are," he said excitedly, waving a long, elegant finger at her. "You're that writer, oh, what's her name?"

Judith suddenly grabbed his shoulder and wheeled him around towards the front door. "Shh," she chided as she continued to guide him out the door and onto the front walk. "Out here." She led him over to a swinging bench situated under a large oak tree in the front yard.

"We can talk about it out here." She settled herself on the bench and turned her body, leaning in to expose her ample cleavage for Bobby's perusal. "Now, isn't this better," she purred at Bobby.

The warning bells were really clanging loudly in his head, making it hard for him to think, but Bobby pressed on. "You are, aren't you?"

She smiled a very Cheshire cat-like smile at him.

"Am I right? Are you Jaye Wardd the writer?"

"Guilty as charged," she said with a laugh, raising her hands in surrender. "How did you know? I never put my picture on any of my books and I rarely make public appearances."

"The Market Street signing ten years ago; your second book. It's one of my favorites."

"Why thank you. It's always nice to meet a fan. I can't believe you remember me from way back then," Judith gushed. "I only did one more signing after that. It was just so much easier and simpler not to be so public. I enjoy the anonymity."

"You haven't written any new books lately," Bobby commented.

"No, I haven't. I started one when Laura was pregnant, but she was so depressed and having so much trouble after Hudson was born that I put it aside to help her. I didn't really need the money, so I put her and the rest of the family first. Then, I guess I just lost interest. But after meeting you, maybe I'll write a story about the big, hunky detective who solved my sister's murder," she told him. Her look was now one of pure sexual interest and invitation, and Bobby found himself being drawn in by the attention and the fawning. It had been a while since he truly felt wanted, and Judith clearly wanted him.

She ran her hand suggestively up and down his arm, and asked him how long she was planning on staying. "Eames -- she's my partner on the force -- brought me out here. I'm kinda stuck here without a ride back."

"I can give you a ride home. I need an excuse to get out of here, anyway," she told him, her eyes clearly communicating to him just why she now wanted to leave.

"I live in Brooklyn; but you don't have to take me home. Trey has already said he'll drive me back," he returned her look of longing and attraction, having already silenced the warning bells in his brain. He'd be damned if he'd ignore the overt signals of want and desire that this incredibly beautiful woman was clearly sending in his direction.

"Trey will be too busy with Hudson and my parents to even notice we've left. You stay here while I run inside and grab my purse." She squeezed his thigh, then got up and headed back inside for her purse.

When she came back out, Bobby was standing by the porch steps waiting for her. "I really should say my goodbyes to Trey." Seeing her look of protest, he shushed her with a finger to her lips. "I'll be careful; he'll never know it's you who's taking me back." He gave her a wink and a smile and re-entered the house.

They had a lively discussion about her novels on the way to Bobby's house. She was appreciative of his intelligent insight into her characters and settings. He was pleased that she wanted his insight into the inner workings of a detective's mind and a police force such as the NYPD. He found her charming and their conversation scintillating. She found him incredibly attractive and extremely desirable.

As they pulled up in front of Bobby's apartment, he faced a dilemma of sorts. All the way home, in addition to their wonderful conversation, he had recognized the movements of the ritual mating dance, having participated in many a dance himself on those lonely nights when he had gone down to the corner bar looking for a cure for his loneliness. On one hand, he found Judith to be very attractive, and very willing; on the other hand, she was the sister of his late daughter-in-law. Not to mention the fact that they had left the post-funeral gathering early, and he hadn't exactly been truthful as to who was taking him home.

"Well, here we are," said Judith, parking the car and turning in her seat to face him.

"Thank you for the ride," Bobby said awkwardly. "It was nice meeting you."

"Thank you," she told him. She reached over and placed her hand softly on Bobby's thigh. "You made a boring gathering quite exciting. It's not often I meet such an enthusiastic and knowledgeable fan of my books." She smiled at him, then leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his full lips.

When her lips touched his, Bobby groaned inwardly. Part of him wanted, needed, and craved this kind of attention. He was lonely, confused and hurt and he leaned in towards her and deepened the kiss.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The phone was ringing. Bobby groaned, rolled over in his bed and grabbed the receiver. He grunted.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Bobby sat up in his bed and rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. "Who is this," he asked.

"It's Trey. Do you have any idea what your leaving with Judith yesterday did to Mom?" The young man's anger was palpable and it reached through the receiver and grabbed Bobby's attention.

"Wha – wait a minute. How do you know I left with Judith? I never told anybody she was taking me home," Bobby said, very confused now. His head was pounding and his stomach felt queasy; he recognized that he had a hangover but the how and the why were presently escaping his memory.

"Mom saw you." When Bobby didn't respond, Trey explained further. "Mom was upstairs in Laura's room with Leslie and Patty. She just happened to be looking out the window onto the front lawn and saw you get into Judith's car." Trey's voice dripped with disgust and disdain when he spoke Judith's name.

Bobby sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm a fan of her books; we were having a nice discussion and she offered me a ride back into the city. I knew how busy you were, tied up with family and friends and all, and I didn't want to bother you. What's the big deal, anyway?" Bobby spoke softly so as to keep his head from pounding so loudly and in an effort to calm his angry son.

"What's the big deal," Trey yelled into the phone, sending Bobby's head into paroxysms of pain. How much had he had to drink, anyway, he wondered. He didn't have time to wonder for long, as Trey continued his angry tirade. "The big deal is she's my sister-in-law. She also happens to be a man-eating slut who'll sink her claws into any willing male form, especially if she thinks it'll work to her advantage. Laura hated her. She even came on to me. Where is she? Is she with you?"

"No, she's not with me. She brought me home and then she left," Bobby told him. At least, I think she left, he thought next. I don't really remember what happened last night. "Look, I'm sorry Trey. I didn't know. She just seemed like a nice person who wanted to help. I had no idea, so just calm down and quit yelling. I'll go see your mother today and apologize. Let me make it up to you; I'll treat you to lunch if we're still on? Please?"

It was quiet on Trey's end of the line, and Bobby hoped he was still on the phone. He could barely hear Trey breathing and when he finally heard his sigh, Bobby knew he was still there.

"I don't…" Bobby heard Trey start, then stop, then inhale deeply, as if to gather up his courage for what he was about to say next. Bobby suddenly felt nervous.

"I don't…" Trey tried again, but was unable to get the words out.

"You don't, what, Trey," Bobby asked him gently. Something in Trey's tone of voice had cautioned Bobby to be gentle with the boy.

"I, I… I don't know what to call you," Trey suddenly blurted out. He immediately felt ashamed, but couldn't take the words back, so he felt them hanging in the air between them.

Bobby didn't know quite what to make of that. It wasn't the question he had been expecting, but it was a good question. A very good question and one which suddenly explained the awkwardness that he had been sensing was lying just beneath the surface of his recent encounters with Trey.

"What do you want to call me," Bobby asked softly.

"That's just it; I don't know. I mean, you're technically my father, but you don't feel like you're my "dad", ya know? And calling you Robert just seems so formal, so maybe, for now, I could just call you Bobby?"

"Bobby would be nice; for now," Bobby told him. He smiled at the thought that maybe, just maybe, some day Trey would call him 'Dad'.

"Okay, Bobby," Trey said hesitantly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you; you were right, you couldn't have known about her and I shouldn't have been so hard on you. It's just that you made Mom so mad and upset, and well, I'm the man in her life. I have to take care of her and see that she's okay, you know? And, well, you messed that up yesterday. I'm sorry I didn't handle it very well."

Bobby could hear the chagrin and honest remorse in his son's voice. "Apology accepted, son. Thank you. So, are we still on for lunch? My treat."

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Chinatown. I know a place where they make the best eggrolls you've ever eaten."

"I'm more of a dumpling man, myself, but I'm up for eggrolls. Especially if you're buying."

Bobby gave Trey the name and address of the restaurant and they settled on a time. After hanging up the phone, Bobby sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands and tried to get his bearings. His headache was really bad, so a trip to the bathroom for some aspirin and to take care of his morning business was in order first. He realized as he climbed out of the bed that he was dressed in his pants that he had worn to the funeral and his white undershirt. His jacket, tie and socks were on the chair next to the dresser; his shoes were on the floor next to his chair.

He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and headed towards the kitchen. Coffee. He needed coffee and the stronger the better.

He came to a dead halt upon entering his living room. Judith was here. Here? That didn't make any sense, yet there she was, sound asleep on his sofa under a pile of blankets. He rubbed his hands through his hair and scrubbed his face as he continued to shuffle into the kitchen. As he quietly went about the task of putting a pot of coffee on to brew, he tried to remember the events of the previous day.

He had kissed her in the car. Correction, she kissed him first, but he did kiss her back, and quite enjoyably, too. Then he had pulled away and said he couldn't do it. She had looked at him, hurt at first, but then understanding dawned. Amy. And Trey. And being Trey's Dad and Laura's father-in-law, and Oh, my God what was I thinking…..Both had sat in silence and contemplated what they had done and almost done.

Finally, Judith had broken the silence by extending to him a peace offering of sorts. She offered to autograph each of her books in his collection. Bobby couldn't let an opportunity like that get away from him, so he had invited her up.

Signing the books had led to more discussion, and Bobby had offered her a drink to go along with the conversation. She was a Scotch drinker, and soon the two of them had had several rather large Scotches and were laughing and having a good time. He couldn't remember who had mentioned being hungry first, but the sight of the empty pizza box on the counter reminded him that they had eaten at some point. Then he remembered they had watched a movie; he couldn't remember which one, but he did remember her sitting next to him and that he kept dozing off.

That's right, he remembered now. He kept dozing off and she insisted he go to bed. He had stumbled down the hall to the linen closet and fumbled around getting her a pillow and a blanket. After several clumsy, drunken attempts, she had joined him in the hall where together, and with much drunken giggling, they had managed to pull out several blankets and a pillow. He vaguely remembered offering her his bed, but she insisted on taking the couch. She must have won that argument, because there she was, asleep on his couch, and he had woken up in his bed.

But did they sleep together? Bobby began to wrack his brain for that answer. He knew they'd had several more drinks after getting her the pillow and blankets, the empty bottle and the glasses in the sink were evidence of that. She's going to have one hell of a headache, too, Bobby thought wryly as he picked up the bottle and placed it quietly in the trash. That's the biggest bottle of Scotch they had in the store, and it was unopened when we started drinking out of it.

He turned to walk out of the kitchen and almost ran into her. She was looking very sleepy and very hung over. He did notice she was very dressed; still wearing the clothes she had on at her parents' yesterday afternoon.

"Do I smell coffee," she asked him, yawning and stretching her arms up over her head.

"It'll be ready soon," Bobby told her. "Do you need some aspirin? We drank quite a bit last night."

"Some aspirin would be nice," she said. "I'm glad you've got quiet neighbors." She smiled wryly.

"Trey called," Bobby said, letting it hang in the air as he went down the hall to get the aspirin.

She was sitting on the couch when he returned. She had gotten a glass of water. She looked at him apologetically when he handed her the bottle. "I'm so sorry. Was he mad?"

"Furious. Yelled at me and accused me of sleeping with you. I told him I didn't know where you were. I thought you had dropped me off and gone home, then I came in here for coffee and found you asleep on the sofa." He sat down next to her.

"What exactly did happen last night," Bobby asked. "I remember you signed my books, we got into another discussion; a great discussion, by the way. We're going to have to do that again sometime. Anyway, I remember the books, then I offered you a drink. I know we ordered pizza because there's an empty box on the kitchen counter. And judging by the size of the empty Scotch bottle I threw in the trash, you and I had quite a lot to drink, because I do clearly remember opening that bottle."

"We didn't sleep together," she stated.

"And you know that how?"

"Because, I would never have fallen asleep on your couch if we had. We'd still be tangled up together in your bed, naked. And, neither one of us would be hung over today, because that's not how I like to do things. I figured out in the car that you weren't going to allow anything to happen. But, I knew you were hurt and lonely, so I figured you could use the company. So, after I get a cup of coffee in my system, I'm going to help you put away the pillow and blankets, and leave."

They enjoyed pleasant conversation over coffee, with Bobby getting Judith to share some her stories and memories of Laura with him. He could tell from her expression and tone of voice that she had loved her sister deeply and would miss her dearly. He could also see some of what Trey saw in Laura and wished he had been able to know her.

Judith thanked him for the coffee and for a fun evening. "That was one of the most fun evenings I've ever had with a man that didn't involve sex," she told him with a husky laugh. "Did Trey tell you I was the family slut? Well, he's partly right, I am family." Bobby laughed with her. "I am going to hold you to another book discussion. I have a group that I meet with monthly. You'll have to come with me sometime. They'd love to hear your insights."

She grabbed her purse, slipped on her shoes and slipped out the door.


	26. Getting to Know You

**Chapter 26 Getting to Know You**

After Judith had left, Bobby checked his watch. 8:30; still early. He retrieved the newspaper from outside his front door and returned to the kitchen. He fixed a bowl of cereal and took it, the newspaper and his coffee over to the table. His headache was lessening some, but he could tell it was still going to be a rough day.

When he was done eating, he cleaned up the kitchen and took a shower. After dressing, he slipped his wallet, keys, switchblade and some loose change into his pocket. He had something he needed to do before he met Trey for lunch in Chinatown, so he made sure he left plenty early.

Bobby arrived at Mr. Chang's in Chinatown about 5 minutes early. The place wasn't open yet, but he was such a regular loyal customer, that Ming, the owner's wife, let him in early with a smile.

"Good morning, Ming," Bobby told her. "I'm meeting someone for lunch, a young man, so could we have a quiet table, please?"

"Ah, sure, Mister Goren," Ming replied graciously. The tiny elderly Chinese woman gave him a small bow and led him to a table.

"Will this do," she asked graciously.

"It's perfect," Bobby answered, choosing a seat so that he could face the door and spot Trey when he came in.

"Would you like a drink," she asked him next.

"Water, please. Thank you," Bobby smiled.

Beaming, Ming hurried off to get his drink.

Bobby spotted Trey when he entered, and stood and waved him over to the table. Trey seemed a little uncomfortable when Ming spotted him and made a beeline for their table, her enthusiasm over the young man effusive.

"Bobby," she chided, slapping him on the shoulder with her towel. "You never told me you had son! And such a fine looking one, too. Just like his father."

Bobby blushed with embarrassment and noticed that Trey was blushing uncomfortably, too. He leaned towards the older lady and whispered conspiratorially into her ear, "Shhh, it's a secret."

She shot him a look that said she didn't believe him, then turned to Trey. "Hello, I'm Ming; I always take good care of your father when he come in here. What you want to drink?"

"Water for me, please," he told her politely.

"Would you like your usual, Mister Goren," she asked Bobby next.

"Yes, please. And can we get some dumplings, too, please?"

She nodded, bowed to the two men and disappeared into the kitchen.

"You must come here a lot," Trey told him. "She likes you."

Bobby just smiled at him. He knew he needed to tell Trey the truth about yesterday, but wasn't quite sure how to start. Ming returned just then with Trey's water, so he waited until she had left before bringing up the subject.

"About yesterday," he began.

Trey cut him off with an elegant wave of his hand. "No need to apologize. I was out of line. You're free to make your own decisions and do your own thing. It's not my place. Like I said on the phone earlier, I'm just used to protecting Mom. If anything, I owe you an apology for yelling at you like that over the phone."

"Apology accepted. Now, can I finish, please?" Trey nodded and Bobby continued. "Judith was at my place this morning." He sighed and noticed Trey's stunned reaction.

"Look, I had no idea. I got up after we got off the phone, went into the living room, and there she was, asleep on my couch. Fully dressed, I assure you, and very hung over, like I was. Seems she came up to sign my copies of her books, I offered her a drink, and we finished off an entire large bottle of Scotch and a large pizza while having a great discussion about her books, then we each went to bed. She assured me that nothing else happened." Bobby studied Trey intently as he processed what he had just been told.

"Let me get this straight, you have copies of her books and she went to your apartment to sign them?"

"Yes. I'm a huge fan. I actually met her briefly at a book signing on Market Street ten years ago."

"And nothing happened?"

"Other than getting very drunk and eating too much pizza, no," Bobby assured him.

"Wow, I cannot believe that Judith was in your apartment and nothing happened. She can be very persuasive, you know," Trey said wryly.

"Oh?" Bobby tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Yeah. I had to tell her to leave me alone because I loved her sister too much and that if she didn't start being more careful she could end up getting really hurt."

"What'd she say to that," Bobby asked him.

"Nothing; it was almost like I had stood up to the school bully or something. She's been a good friend and a staunch supporter ever since." Trey looked like he wanted to continue, but Ming appeared at their table just then. She was carrying a large tray with several plates piled with steaming food on them. Behind her was another server with a plate of steaming dumplings and a bowl filled with aromatic amber liquid. The two servers placed the plates on the table and left.

"How's your Mom," Bobby asked casually. The two men were busy filling their plates with steaming food, which gave Trey time to carefully frame his answer.

"Mom is Mom," Trey said cautiously.

"She seemed angry that I was at the funeral."

"She was; she was angrier at your partner later."

"I wasn't happy with her about that, either. I know she has my back and wants to protect me, but this is my problem, not hers," Bobby said, barely concealing his anger and frustration.

"It should never have become your problem," Trey said wistfully.

Bobby looked at him questioningly.

"Mom should have told you," Trey said forcefully. "This isn't fair to any of us. I could've had you around while I was growing up. You could've met Laura," Trey choked off a sob and Bobby could see the tears form in his eyes.

Bobby suddenly had an overwhelming urge to reach out and hold Trey, to comfort him as a father should comfort his hurting child. He wanted to be able to go back and undo all the pain and hurt that had been inflicted upon this young man over the last ten days. The feeling was not altogether unpleasant, but the strength and suddenness of it took Bobby by surprise. He had only known about his son for four days and yet he already felt protective and at the same time weak and helpless. He wondered if his mother ever felt this way about him and Frank; maybe early on, in the beginning, but it was hard to tell in later years and especially during the last painful six months of her existence. He recalled that they were having a fight, another bitter discussion over Frank not being there and who was his real dad, when she died.

Bobby reached out and gently squeezed Trey's forearm. "I wish she had told me, too. I wish I could've been there as well. I'm sorry I didn't know. Where do we go from here?"

"More good meals together like this one would be fine with me," Trey said, smiling sadly. "This stuff is delicious! I've lived here all my life and never knew about this place. How did you find it?"

"One of the perks of being a cop," Bobby grinned back at him. "You meet all sorts of people all over the city."

Bobby suddenly had an idea. He wasn't sure if it was a good one, but he impulsively decided to go with it. Pulling out his wallet, he pulled out two faded, worn photographs and slid them across the table to Trey. One was of a young boy, about 18; the other was of a woman in her late 20's wearing a black and white hounds-tooth check suit with a matching pillbox hat. She was posing and smiling happily for the camera.

Trey picked up the photos and looked at them. Then he took a sip of his water, swallowed and looked up at Bobby.

"Who are these people," Trey asked curiously. "Are they family?"

"Yes. The young man is my nephew, your cousin Donnie. He's had a bit of a run-in with the law lately; I'm not really sure where he is right now. The other one is my mother, your grandmother. She died last year."

"She's very pretty," Trey commented as he took in the news that he had more family he didn't know about.

"Yes, she was. I prefer to remember her like that, young and beautiful," Bobby said wistfully. "She died of cancer last year and it wasn't pretty. I don't like to remember her like that, all weak and tiny and helpless. The woman in that picture could conquer the world and raise two little boys at the same time." Bobby gave a sad smile as he remembered his mom in her better days.

Trey laid the pictures back down on the table and looked up at Bobby. The same sadness was mirrored in his eyes as he spoke. "We both have someone dear to us that we'll never be able to introduce to each other. I would have liked to have known my grandmother."

"Would you like to meet her," Bobby asked Trey.

Trey looked askance at his father, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I go to the cemetery every Sunday afternoon to visit her grave. Sometimes I take flowers. Would you like to go with me and meet her? It's not always an easy visit for me to make; I could use the company."

"Sure. Why not," Trey agreed impulsively. "I have to call the house and let Christy know. I usually take Hudson out after his nap on Sunday afternoons. We go over to the park and I let him chase the pigeons," Trey chuckled. Bobby smiled at the image of his little grandson running around in circles trying to catch birds.

"We could take him with us," Bobby decided. "That would give me a reason not to stay very long. I usually end up depressed after our visits." Trey looked at Bobby in silent question, and Bobby decided to press on and share more about his mother with his son. "Mom's life became very difficult when I was seven. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia then and got divorced from my dad when I was twelve. She spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital over many years until I finally had to put her in a home. She was never happy with me about it, but I couldn't take care of her with my crazy work hours. Visiting her always brings up bad memories; I think having you and Hudson along will make today's visit easier for me. What do you say?"

"I say yes," Trey told Bobby. "I would love for the three of us to spend more time together now that we know about each other."

"What about your mom?"

"What about her," Trey echoed. "I'm a grown man, Bobby. I make my own decisions. If I want to spend time with you, I will. I can't get Mom to tell me what she's so upset about, anyway. It's still a mystery to me why she never told you; why she was so scared. You don't seem like the kind of man who would have dumped her over the news."

"I wouldn't have," Bobby said softly. "A month after she left to go back to college, before she found out she was pregnant, I had already decided I couldn't live without her. I was going to propose to her when she came home for Christmas. Her dumping me was the worst thing that could have happened; I was crushed. It was also the best thing. I put even more of myself into my work and learned all I could about solving crimes, forensics, reading evidence, all of it. When Declan Gage began his studies and articles on criminal profiling, I was hooked. I left the Army for an opportunity to learn from him and study under him. Then I entered the NYPD Academy and worked my way up to the Major Case Squad. I've been there for ten years now and I love every minute of it. I wouldn't trade it for the world, but I would have loved to have had your mother beside me all these years."

"It would have been a lot of hard work, though," Trey told him. "Mom travelled so much after college. Her grandfather had decided he wanted to turn his Utica estate into a winery during her senior year. They hired a nanny and took me along. Mom and Great-grandpa went all over Europe visiting wineries, studying grapes, grape farming, soils, what would grow in upstate New York, all of it. They took classes, tasted wines and even spent time at several wineries picking grapes and processing them. It was quite extensive. Eventually I reached the point where I had to be in school, so I came back here and lived with my grandparents and my nanny. You've met my nanny, in fact," Trey said with a mischievous smile.

"I have," Bobby said questioningly. Trey continued to smile so Bobby thought hard about who in Trey's life he'd met recently. Understanding dawned and he smiled back at Trey. "Mrs. Mitchell?"

Trey nodded. "Yes. By the time I turned twelve, I realized I didn't need a nanny anymore, and I announced so to my family one night over dinner. She wasn't really much of a nanny to me anyway by then, but had become more of a housekeeper, so we asked her to stay on as our housekeeper. I can't imagine not having her around. She's practically family."

Bobby smiled warmly. "Sounds like it worked out perfectly." Trey smiled back and nodded in agreement.

"So, now you're poised to take over the winery, I understand," Bobby said as he reached for his glass of water.

"Yes. Although I'm torn, actually." He paused as one of the employees cleared their table of its empty dishes. He continued after the young man had left. "Part of me wants to continue Laura's work with the Trust. She had so many great ideas for the money. Ways to invest it to make it grow larger, groups she wanted to give the money to. She was really inspired by what Grams and Pop had started and wanted to continue it, to make it bigger and better; to really make a difference, you know?" He took a deep steadying breath, and Bobby could sense the sadness of his loss behind the pride of what Laura had done.

Bobby decided to change the subject. Something Trey had said earlier that morning had been bugging him and he decided that, since they were being so open with each other, he could ask Trey something else that was on his mind. "Earlier this morning, when you were talking about Judith, you mentioned that Laura hated her. Yet, when I spoke to Judith at my apartment before she left, she had nothing but kind words and pleasant memories. What went wrong?"

Trey swallowed his drink, place his glass carefully back down on the table, and scrunched up his face as he searched for the right words. "I guess 'hate' was too strong a word; I was just so upset that you had left with her last night…" his voice trailed off as he continued to gather his thoughts. After another deep sigh, he pressed on. "Laura and Judith are ten years apart in age, but it might have been a lifetime. They were never very close growing up, but Laura admired her. After Judith started writing in college and had her first book published, things began to change. The family wasn't terribly impressed with her chosen career, even after she became very famous and very popular. Her writing has won many awards, as I'm sure you're aware of, but for some reason, her family has never been thrilled with having an author in its midst. Then there's Judith's promiscuity and her apparent flightiness, her unwillingness to "settle down properly and raise a family", as Leslie likes to hold over her. Somehow, that attitude towards Judith rubbed off on Laura. After Judith came onto me, Laura really hated her, but after Judith came to our rescue during Laura's PPD, things were getting better. Now this. I really feel like, had they had more time, Laura and Judith were on their way to becoming close, to really being sisters. I know they loved each other deeply; they just didn't like each other very well. It's sad, really. I never had a sibling, and Laura had two, but wasn't really close to either one."

"I had wondered where Denny, Jr., was yesterday. I saw a picture of the three of them at the Edwards' house yesterday and Judith told me who he was," Bobby explained to Trey's questioning look.

"Denny is in Iraq with the Marines. He was crushed when he got the news. The Navy tried to get him back here for the funeral, but it didn't work out. He'll be here in three weeks, though. That was the soonest they could pull him out and get him back. His work is very specialized, almost secret, and it's very difficult for someone of his specialization to just up and leave. They had to find someone else who could replace him for a period of time. It'll be fun to see him again; I really like him. He's four years older than Laura; it's tearing him up not to be here right now." Trey fell silent and stared at his hands as his emotions welled up and washed over him.

Bobby sat quietly and watched the play of emotions over his son's face. Once again, he felt compelled to take him away from all this, the sadness, the loss, the pain. He knew Trey would be a stronger man for going through it and took comfort in knowing that he wouldn't have to go through it alone. Bobby also realized suddenly that he would no longer have to go through his grief alone. He could share it with Trey and hopefully with Amy.

Amy. Now there was another problem. What to do about Amy? Bobby knew he wanted to continue to get to know Trey, to be involved in the lives of his son and grandson and was pretty sure the feelings were mutual. His son's mother was another matter however. One that would require much thought and much soul searching.


	27. What Now?

_Thanks as always to my betas and friends.......you mean so much to me and to this story....more than you will ever know.....and, tuda....._

**Chapter 27 What Now?**

The young man carefully made his way up the stoop. He checked his watch and the address over the door. He lifted his leg and scooched his body around strangely in an effort to keep his clipboard securely between his arm and his chest. He was barely able to ring the doorbell.

It was an older lady who answered the door.

"Ms. Amy Wainwright," the young man questioned eagerly.

"No. She's busy right now. Can I take that for you," she asked, referring to the rather large object in his hand.

"No, thank you, ma'am. The customer specifically requested that I deliver these into the hands of Ms. Wainwright and no one else."

"I'm sorry, but she's unavailable at the moment. If you would set that down here on the hall table, I'll make sure she sees it later," the lady insisted, raising her voice in impatience at the delivery boy.

"Mrs. Mitchell? Is there a problem?" Patty Wainwright came down the hall, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "Oh, my goodness," she exclaimed at the sight of the delivery. "Would you look at that? Those are gorgeous!"

"They are for Miss Amy," Mrs. Mitchell stated imperiously. "I keep telling him that she's busy and just to leave them here on the table, but he insists on giving them directly to her; something about the customer's request." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the young man suspiciously.

"I'll get her; it's all right. I'm sure she'd love to receive them herself." Patty graced the young man with a smile, then turned and went back down the hall.

The young man smiled nervously at Mrs. Mitchell and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His delivery was heavy and his arms were getting tired, but for this particular customer, he would personally see to it that Ms. Wainwright herself accepted the delivery.

The sound of two sets of footsteps caused him to return his attention to the long hallway. He saw a slightly younger woman coming towards the door, with the same woman from earlier right behind her.

"Oh, my God," Amy breathed. "Are these for me," she asked the delivery man.

"Are you Ms. Amy Wainwright?"

She nodded, unable to take her eyes off the very large vase filled to overflowing with red, long-stemmed, Mr. Lincoln roses and just a hint of greenery.

Sighing, the young man asked her where he should put the vase.

"Here on the table," Amy said, pointing to the entry hall table.

Mrs. Mitchell sniffed. "I told him to put them there when I answered the door. He insisted that he could only give them to you and no one else."

Patty gently placed her hand on Mrs. Mitchell's arm. "I'm sure there's a very good reason why," she said gently. "Let's see what the young man has to say and then we'll let Amy enjoy her pretty flowers."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said gratefully. "The customer who placed this order insisted on several things. One, that I give them to no one but Ms. Wainwright; and two, that I deliver them right at four p.m. He's such a loyal customer that we were all too happy to oblige him. Oh, since this was such a big delivery, my boss insists that you sign for it. Here," he said as he handed Amy the clipboard.

Amy signed, then said, "Wait here while I go grab my purse; you deserve a tip for your trouble."

"Oh, no ma'am. That's all been taken care of, too. I'm just supposed to tell you to count them and enjoy them. Good day." The delivery man smiled at the three ladies, then left. Patty grabbed Mrs. Mitchell by the hand and pulled her towards the kitchen; Amy could hear her mother saying something about coffee and cookies as they walked away.

"Count them," Amy questioned, looking at the gorgeous array of flowers before her. "Well, okay." She began to count, her eyes growing wider, and her voice in stunned awe as she concluded, "twenty-five…"

It was then that she noticed the three cards sticking out of the bouquet. Each had a number on the envelope in a handwriting that was unfamiliar.

Amy plucked the envelope with the number one on it off the pick and opened it. The handwriting on the card was also unfamiliar and simply read, "Nothing happened." She stared at the card. Who would send her twenty-five of her favorite roses and this type of note?

Her hands began to shake after she opened the second note. The same unfamiliar handwriting now seemed to mock her, for the words on this card read, "I'm not going anywhere."

Tears began to stream down her cheeks when she fumbled open the third card. The handwriting was now familiar to her; it was the handwriting of someone who had once stirred her soul. The sight of this handwriting once made her heart sing every time it appeared on an envelope in her mailbox all those many years ago. The final message on the card, however, sat heavy on her heart and made her stomach lurch. "It's your call." Included was a phone number. Amy assumed it was Bobby's private cell number; she'd only called him at the squad room.

Leaving the flowers on the hall table, Amy slowly made her way upstairs to her bedroom. Going into her spacious closet, she shoved aside her formal gowns and pulled out a box. Opening the box, she pulled out a scrapbook. "Summer of '83" was embossed in a small, gold, italic font on the bottom right hand corner. She sniffed as she turned the pages. Time seemed to fade away as she returned, through pictures and notes, to her memories.

Earlier that day…..

Bobby was having the time of his life.

After lunch, he and Trey had gone back to Trey's home, where they relieved Christy for the afternoon and waited for Hudson to finish his nap. The two men had talked more, learning that both were big Mets fans and classic car buffs. Bobby promised Trey a visit to Lewis's shop where they could tinker around together on Lewis's latest rebuild and just enjoy spending time together.

Trey and Amy's upcoming trip to Indonesia was also discussed. Bobby requested being allowed to have Hudson on his day off while Trey was away. Schedules were checked and plans were made.

About 3 o'clock Hudson could be heard talking and playing through the baby monitor. Bobby followed Trey upstairs to the little boy's room. Hudson was always eager to see his daddy and showered that same eagerness on Bobby.

As Trey deftly changed the little boy's diaper, he told Hudson they were going to the park.

"Park," Hudson exclaimed.

"Yeah, Buddy. The park," Trey smiled at him. He placed Hudson on the floor and moved to pull some play clothes out of the child's dresser.

Hudson pointed at Bobby. "Boppy," he yelled happily.

"Hi, Hudson," Bobby said, squatting down to his grandson's level.

"Trucks, Daddy," Hudson said next.

"That's right, Hudson," Trey agreed as he sat on the floor and began to dress Hudson, carefully pulling on a shirt around the child's cast. "You played trucks with Bobby yesterday. He's going to the park with us."

"Birz," Hudson chirped excitedly. "Birz!" He began to eagerly move around, waving his arms and hopping from one foot to the other.

"Whoa! Hold still, little guy," Trey exclaimed as he struggled to pull up Hudson's pants. "We have to put shoes on before we can go. Okay, buddy?"

Hudson dropped to the floor and stuck his legs out in front of him, wiggling his little feet. "Shooz!"

Bobby and Trey laughed.

Bobby sat completely down on the floor and crossed his long legs in front of him, thankful he was wearing comfortable jeans. He reached his arm out towards Trey.

"Here, I'll do the socks and shoes," he offered. "You have anything else you need to get ready?"

Trey handed Bobby the socks and shoes. "Yes. I need to check his bag and get his juice and snacks packed."

Bobby and Hudson made short work of putting on socks and shoes while Trey checked the diaper bag. Trey watched in amazement as Bobby talked softly to the little boy about socks and shoes and going to the park.

"He really likes you," Trey commented softly.

Bobby looked up at his son, an eyebrow raised in silent question.

"He doesn't let just anyone put on his socks and shoes," Trey replied, smiling proudly at his young son. Hudson was seriously studying the job Bobby had done putting on his shoes.

"Boppy shooz," Hudson said with a smile, pointing at Bobby.

"I know," Trey said, slipping the diaper bag over his shoulder. He squatted down next to Hudson and ruffled the boy's blonde curls. "You ready to go?"

Hudson scrambled up off the floor and began to dance around the room. "Go! Go! Go," he cried.

Bobby laughed as he pushed himself up off the floor. On impulse, he reached out and scooped up Hudson, flying him around like an airplane and delighting in the small child's shrieks of laughter. Together they led the way out into the hall, Bobby still flying Hudson around like an airplane and Trey following behind. The merry band made its way noisily down the stairs and into the kitchen, pausing long enough to grab juice and snacks for Hudson. Another stop in the back anteroom for the stroller and the three were off to the park, ready to take on the pigeons.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When the phone rang around 5 p.m., it was Patty who answered it. Trey was surprised his mom hadn't answered, but asked his grandmother to please pass on the message that he was still out with Bobby and Hudson. Hudson had gotten hungry so they were going to take him to McDonald's for dinner on the way back from the cemetery, and would he please let his mom know not to expect them for a while? Patty willingly took the message and was glad to learn the three were having a great time together.

She decided to go pass the message on to Amy, and went in search of her. Patty's search took her upstairs. She called Amy's name; no answer. She made her way down the hall towards her daughter's bedroom. She called Amy's name as she got to the door.

"In here, Momma," she heard faintly as she entered the bedroom.

She found Amy sitting cross-legged on the floor in the closet, an open scrapbook in her lap. Her eyes were red and swollen and dirty tissues littered the floor around her.

Amy looked up at her mom and sniffed, "I know, it's stupid of me to be sitting up here like this." She smiled and laughed through her tears. Grabbing another tissue from the box next to her, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

"What are you looking at," asked Patty as she kicked aside several dirty tissues and joined her daughter on the floor.

Amy lifted up the cover of the album so her mom could see it.

"Oh," Patty said with understanding. "And what brought this on?"

Amy said nothing. She sniffed again and handed her mother the three cards that had come with the flowers. Patty read them quietly; her eyes grew larger with each card.

"There were 25 roses, Mom," Amy told her. "Mr. Lincoln's; no Baby's Breath, just a few fern fronds."

"Bobby?"

"Bobby," Amy responded, nodding her head. "Oh, Momma, what am I going to do," she lamented, fresh tears flowing hotly down her face.

Patty gently removed the scrapbook from her lap, closing it and setting it off to the side. She reached across Amy's lap for the tissue box. Removing one, she placed the box in front of her and then reached out to gently wipe Amy's face.

"I don't know, Sweetheart. What do you want to do," Patty asked her softly.

Amy just sat there, her mind roiling with thoughts and "what if's" and "maybe's".

Patty watched the play of emotions over her daughter's face and began to speak softly. "Your father and I never approved of your not telling Bobby. We never questioned you as to why, either. However, I now wish that we'd at least forced you to answer "why" to yourself."

Amy looked down at her hands, fidgeting with a wadded up tissue in her lap. "I couldn't let him hurt me," she said, so softly Patty had to ask her to repeat herself.

"I couldn't let him hurt me," Amy sobbed louder.

Patty stared at her. "Amy," Patty cooed, leaning in to place her arm around her hurting daughter's shoulder. "What made you think Bobby would ever knowingly hurt you?"

Amy shrugged. "It happened before. I got scared, Momma. I know now that it was stupid. I should have told him why I was breaking up with him, but I couldn't. I was scared because….because…" she sobbed and gulped, then continued on. "I was scared because I didn't want him to be disappointed in me. I felt like it was my fault that I got pregnant, that I had pushed myself on him that day; that I was the aggressor. Mom, I know he was as much a part of all that and just as eager," she said, placing her hand on Patty's arm and looking her in the eye. "I'm not that naïve. I just, part of me…well, part of me still feels that way. And when I saw him again…all those feelings came back, the good ones and the bad ones. And now, I wonder what I've missed out on. I have regrets. I hate myself right now. I hate him for still being able to get to me that way after all these years. I saw him, and time just faded away…." Her voice trailed off and she struggled to collect her thoughts again.

"Part of me wants him to just leave me, us, alone. To let us get back on with our lives. We were doing just fine without him knowing, you know?" She smiled feebly at her mom. Taking a deep breath, she continued on, sorting out her thoughts as she spoke. "But part of me wants him here, wants him to get to know his son, to learn about the part of his life he's missed out on. But I don't want to be here when he finds out. I don't want to get hurt again."

Patty had to interrupt, so she shushed Amy and spoke up. "You keep saying 'again', Amy. Why do you keep saying you'll get hurt 'again'? I don't understand."

Amy looked up at her, pleading with her mom to understand. "Because, everybody leaves me," she stated emphatically. Patty was stunned to hear the hurt little girl behind Amy's voice.

"Not everybody, Amy," she said softly. "Your father and I are still here, Trey and Hudson are still here. Even Mrs. Mitchell is still here. Are you still carrying the hurt of your childhood?" When Amy said nothing, but dipped her head, Patty sighed, understanding at last what was at the core of Amy's feelings. "Amy, look at me." Patty reached out and tipped Amy's head upwards, meeting her daughter's blue eyes with her own equally blue ones. She saw sadness there; years of hurt and anguish, a look she thought was long since gone from her beloved daughter's eyes. "Oh, my sweet girl. Do you mean to tell me that all this anger, all this hurt, this emotion, these tears, are out of fear? You're lumping Bobby in with the friends who got mad at you when we had to move, the boyfriends who were threatened by the fear that you would move if they got too involved with you?"

Amy nodded. "I know, Mom. It's stupid, still carrying around all that childhood baggage. But that's pretty heavy baggage in my life. I was afraid Bobby would reject me. I thought it would be easier for me to push him away. I thought it wouldn't hurt as much."

"Did it hurt less? Was it easier?"

"No, Momma. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. And now, I don't know how to undo it."

"Do you want to," Patty asked next.

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. Part of me does. Part of me doesn't. And part of me is scared of what's going to happen no matter what I decide."

"I think it's time you stopped living in fear and faced it. Call him," Patty insisted, holding out the cards to Amy. "He wants you to, or he wouldn't have put his number on here."

"Do you remember my freshman year, when I got so sick?"

Patty nodded. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Well, you remember that I thought I was pregnant, before we found out that stress had messed up my ovulatory and menstrual cycles?" Patty nodded again and Amy continued. "Rodger told me that I had better not be pregnant. That having kids was not a part of "the plan". He had it all mapped out for us that we would both graduate, get jobs and settle down before having kids, IF we had any at all. I was so in love with him at the time -- and in love with love, I know that now -- that I would have followed him to the ends of the earth and jumped off if he wanted me to. He hinted that if I messed things up, he wouldn't want to be with me anymore. I was so insecure and afraid to be left alone that I went along with it. I thought I could make him love me more. Then the whole mess junior year, when I found him in bed with his roommate, Kenneth. I couldn't let that happen to me again. I couldn't mess things up, so when I found out I was pregnant, I decided that if I pushed Bobby away first, then he couldn't hurt me. Instead, I hurt myself.

"Now I'm angry and hurt. And I'm still scared. I'm scared that if I call him, he's going to change his mind and tell me to go away, to leave him alone. I'm scared he's going to want to find out if there's anything left for us besides just being friends, or even worse, acquaintances, and that in so doing, that doesn't work out either and we end up hating each other. I want a happy ending, but I'm afraid there isn't one there for us and I don't know what to do about it." She fell silent, and more hot tears streamed down her face.

Patty handed her a fresh tissue. She took a deep breath and spoke, her words carefully measured. "Well now, I'm glad you got all that in the open. I had been suspecting there was a lot hiding way down inside your heart. And, I'm thinking there's still one more fear that you need to address, isn't there?" She ducked down, meeting Amy's eyes with her own and drawing her head back up, causing Amy to lift hers and face her mother head on, a questioning look in her eyes.

"It's Trey, isn't it," Patty asked gently. "You're afraid Bobby will take Trey away from you."

Amy took a deep breath and shuddered with emotion and tears. A small sob escaped as she sniffed and wiped her face with the tissue. "Mom, is it stupid of me to feel that way?"

"No. But look in your heart; look deep and think hard about your son before you answer me. Do you really think that boy is going to leave you because of knowing who his father is? You've already told me he's forgiven you for not telling him all these years. You do owe him the reason why. Trey needs to hear what you've told me as much as you need to tell him."

"I know," Amy agreed humbly. "I'll tell him. I promise. And I mean it this time." She smiled weakly at her mom. "And, I'm going to call Bobby, too. He needs to hear it as well. Maybe I could tell them at the same time?"

"That's your call to make," Patty said as she rose up from her sitting position. She shook out her legs and stretched. "Oh, I almost forgot. I was coming up here to give you a message from Trey."

Amy looked up at her curiously.

"It seems that Bobby went with Trey and Hudson to the park. Trey said Hudson got hungry, so they were going to take him to McDonald's for some supper on the way back from the cemetery. I'm not sure why they went to a cemetery; I didn't ask, I just told Trey I'd pass on the message." She looked at her watch. "That was about half an hour ago. Your dad's going to come looking for me soon asking about supper plans, I'd better get home. Are you going to be okay?"

Amy stood up and hugged her mom. "Yeah, Mom. I'm going to be okay. Thanks for listening to me. Tell me one more thing before you go, please?"

"What's that, honey?"

"When I talk to Bobby, after I tell him why, where do I start? You know, with telling him what he missed and trying to start over?"

Patty reached down and pulled out a baby blue album from the box on the floor. She handed it to Amy with a smile. "Start here."


	28. Is This the End?

_Well, this is it, readers -- the final chapter. The story isn't over, by no means, just this part really needs to come to a close. Bobby and Amy will return very soon in a brand new story. Please remember that this story, while spanning 25 years, only covered 2 weeks in July in the present time.....Thank you all who have faithfully gone on this journey with me; I've loved every minute of it and you all have made it so much more enjoyable. Your comments and feedback, praise and criticism, but especially your intense emotional connection to my story and my characters have helped me to become a better writer along the way. Thank you all very much! I love every single one of you!_

As usual, I want to thank my beta team: jcsavestheday, who helped me get it off the ground, and ciaddict and TCIF who helped me keep it going. Also thanks to VDObsessed and JudyG who came along side me at the end and helped me out as well. tuda........

**Chapter 28 Is This the End?**

Amy heard the noisy band enter the anteroom of Trey's home around 6:30. She knew Trey appreciated an extra hand helping with Hudson on Sunday evenings, so she made her way down the back hall and found the three laughing and giggling in Trey's sunny kitchen.

Laura had re-done the kitchen shortly after she had accepted Trey's marriage proposal. It was a light and airy space with shades of soft blues, greens and yellows decorating, highlighting and accenting the area beautifully. It saddened her every time she entered the room to think that Laura would never again be able to watch her family live and grow in the wonderful space she had so lovingly created.

Hudson saw her standing in the doorway and ran over to her, his arms outstretched and loud cries of "Gammy! Gammy!" on his lips. She bent down and eagerly scooped him up into her arms, giving him a hug and receiving a face full of "Hudson kisses" in return. She breathed in his warm little boy smell and fondly remembered Trey at the same age. Her eyes met Bobby's and she smiled warmly at him. Placing her grandson on the floor, she moved across the room to stand in front of Bobby.

Smiling up at him shyly she quietly thanked him for the flowers. He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze, looking down at her as he did. "You're welcome," he replied back, equally softly.

Trey looked at them with an amused expression on his face. Amy caught his look and dropped Bobby's hand, moving away to approach her son. "Did you have a nice time in the park?" She forced a smile onto her face and into her voice.

"Yes," Trey answered her. He was concerned by the redness of her face and the puffiness of her eyes, but said nothing. "We had a great time. Hudson found lots of birds to chase and even got Bobby to chase birds with him."

Amy turned to look at Bobby. He shrugged and gave her a boyish grin. She shook her head and gave him a small smile in return. "Mom said you all went to the cemetery?" She let the question hang in the air.

Trey and Bobby looked at each other. Bobby spoke up first. "Yes. I took them with me to visit my mother's grave. I usually go every Sunday. Most visits are hard; my memories of her are not all pleasant, but having them with me made it easier for me. I wanted them to meet her…" his voice trailed off as he spread his arms slightly and shrugged again.

Amy smiled in understanding at Bobby. "I'm glad. I never got to meet her either; maybe I could go with you sometime?" Bobby looked at her as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He said nothing in response but the serious expression on his face and the whorl of emotions in his dark brown eyes spoke volumes. She was trying and he knew it, but wasn't sure how he felt about it just yet.

"Could the three of us talk later, please," Amy asked the two men. "I really need to speak to both of you and I'd like to have you both together. If that's okay with you?"

Bobby looked at Amy, then at Trey. He checked his watch. "Sure. I can stay for a bit longer."

"Okay, Mom," Trey replied. "I need to give Hudson his bath first. Is that okay?" Amy nodded. Trey turned to Bobby. "You wanna help me bathe Hudson?"

"Sure," Bobby agreed. He smiled at Amy as Trey led Hudson out of the kitchen. "I've learned more about little kids this afternoon than in my whole life."

"You seem to be having a great time," Amy commented.

"I'm loving every minute of it," Bobby answered her as he left to go upstairs.

Amy went back to her home to retrieve the photo album. She poured herself a large glass of white wine. As she placed the bottle back down on the counter, she thought better of it, and took the bottle with her back over to Trey's. This was a particularly delightful white wine and she decided that she'd like to share it.

When Bobby and Trey came back into the kitchen an hour later, they found Amy sitting at the kitchen table, a photo album open in front of her and tears streaming down her face.

"Are you all right, Mom," Trey asked her gently. He placed his hands on her shoulders and peered over to see what she was looking at. "Oh, I see," he said understandingly.

Bobby brought over a box of tissues he had found on the counter. "What's wrong?"

"Mom got my baby book out. She always gets weepy when she looks through old photos."

"I just can't believe you're all grown up," Amy said. "You're still supposed to be my little boy, like Hudson." She took the tissue Bobby held out to her and wiped her eyes. "Thanks," she said sheepishly. "I should know better, but…"

"Can I see," Bobby asked her softly.

Amy looked intently at him, taking in the warmth and friendship she saw in his deep brown eyes. "Not yet. I'd like to talk to you both first. Why don't you grab a glass of wine?" She indicated the bottle and glasses sitting on the counter.

Trey picked up the bottle and studied the label. "I haven't done more than taste this batch. Is it any good," he asked his mother as he poured two glasses of wine.

"It's fabulous," Amy gushed. "We're really going to need to push this one. I also think we should take some with us next week, but we can talk about that later. Sit!"

Bobby and Trey took seats at the table. Amy shifted so that she could face both of them. She grabbed some more tissues and took a deep breath. She exhaled loudly, composed herself and began to speak.

"Please let me say my piece without interruption, okay?"

Bobby and Trey nodded. Bobby indicated she should continue with a graceful wave of his hand.

Amy inhaled deeply and began.

"Earlier today, I got the most beautiful arrangement of roses I have ever seen. They were from Bobby," she paused to smile at him, "and they challenged me."

She looked at Trey. "Bobby basically has put the ball back in my court," she told him. "It's up to me now as to how to continue." She passed the three cards from the flowers over to Trey. He flipped through them quickly as Amy continued.

"So I went upstairs and pulled out my box of photo albums. I was looking for one in particular, from the summer of '83," she looked at Bobby as she said this and smiled bitter sweetly at him. "I relived it all, Bobby, every bit of it. I was still looking at it when Mom found me. She basically vocalized the question I had been considering. Why I had never told you I was pregnant." She stopped to wipe her face as the tears began to flow. She took several deep, shuddering breaths and Bobby reached over and took her hand in one of his. She found comfort in the strength of his large hand wrapped around hers and was able to continue.

"I wasn't completely honest with you or with myself that morning. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want the life of a military wife. I was craving stability. All that moving around, making and losing friends and boyfriends was hard; I was tired of it. It hurt, deeply. So because of that, I was scared, Bobby. I was so sure you were going to get mad and reject me that I figured if I pushed you away, then you couldn't hurt me and I would be all right." She looked sadly at his kind, sweet face. There was no hatred there, nor pity. No, what she saw in Bobby's face was compassion laced with regret. "It was foolish, I know that now. I'm sorry I never gave you a chance."

"And Trey," she smiled lovingly at her son and reached her other hand out to him. "I should have told you years ago about Bobby. You should have had him around a lot sooner. I'm so very sorry.

"I also have to apologize to you both for being so angry lately. I've been angry at you, Bobby, for nearly arresting Trey, for making me have to tell you about him. Angry at how you seemed to handle it all so well. You didn't yell at me, or get angry or upset around me. You didn't do anything mean or ugly or vindictive, you just walked away and processed it all. You haven't judged me harshly or unfairly. I've been angry because you're making yourself a part of Trey's family and I couldn't handle it. I got angry because I couldn't admit to myself that I wasn't in control anymore. Nothing was neat and orderly. I was doing just fine on my own, my own way. Then you came along, and it got all messed up; I got scared again." She looked directly at Bobby as she spoke softly, "I've been scared you'd take Trey away from me."

At his loud gasp of air, Amy turned and looked at Trey. "Oh, sweetie, I know that's not true, but I've been so messed up inside for so many years over all of this, that I haven't been thinking straight lately. I haven't been sure at all of what I've been feeling lately. All this coming out and having to deal with Laura's death, it's just all been too much, you know?"

Trey nodded and squeezed her hand even harder. He moved his chair around next to hers and wrapped he arms around her, hugging her tightly to him. "I could never leave you," he breathed into her ear. "I couldn't leave even after I got married. I moved in next door," he said with a soft laugh.

"Thank you," Amy told him. "It's nice to see you happy. I'm glad you're enjoying getting to know your fff — Bobby."

Trey looked his mom in the eye as he spoke. "I wish you'd told me sooner, too. Heck, I wish you'd never lied to him in the first place. But I can't change that, so I'm just going to go on from here." He stood up and stretched. "I think you two need to talk even further." He bent down and kissed her softly on the cheek. "Good night, Mom." He reached across the table to shake Bobby's hand. "Good night, Bobby," he said. "Thanks for spending the day with me; I really enjoyed it."

Bobby stood and shook his son's hand. "It was my pleasure. Thanks for coming to the cemetery with me."

"Any time. I mean it, okay?" Trey smiled at Bobby. "Good night," he said one last time with a wave as he left the kitchen.

"He's a wonderful young man," Bobby commented as he sat back down and faced Amy.

Amy fidgeted with the tissue in her hands. She looked down at them as she spoke. "Yes, he is."

The silence stretched on. Neither one spoke.

"You're not angry with me," she said. It wasn't a question, but wasn't a statement, either.

"Not really, I mean, not anymore," Bobby stumbled over the words. "I was, but, well, the time is long past for me to be angry. I've moved onto sadness."

"Sadness?"

"Yes. Sadness at everything I've missed out on. Sadness at not knowing, at not being able to be there for you, to take care of you, to work things out with you. Sadness at finding out that you didn't trust me enough to take the chance and tell me, and that hurts. It hurts deeply, Amy. Probably the worst thing you could have done to me was not trust me enough to tell me. You didn't think I was worth taking the risk of telling me what had happened. I don't know if I can get past that, Amy. I'm not even sure if I want to.

"I've discovered that I still love you. I never stopped thinking about you, wondering what happened to you, what I had done wrong and what life could have been for us had we stayed together. I know that if you had told me you were pregnant, we could have made it work."

"But I would have insisted on finishing school," Amy cut in emphatically.

"And I would have wanted you to finish," Bobby snapped back. "Do I get the courtesy of you listening while I talk?"

"Sorry," Amy mumbled. She looked back down at her hands and tore at the tissue.

"Amy, I'm confident we could have worked out any obstacles. Even your grandfather's desire to have you help him start the winery." Bobby fell silent. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, then looked over at Amy.

"What now," Amy asked softly.

"I don't know, Amy," Bobby answered. "What do you want? Do you even know where you want me to fit in, IF you want me to fit in to all this?" He waved a large elegant hand through the air as he spoke. "I've told you I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be here, if not as a part of your life, then for sure as a part of Trey and Hudson's life. I've missed out on too much and I'm not going to miss out on any more." He became agitated and rose to pace the kitchen.

"I would love the opportunity to be your friend. To at least see what, if anything, is left between us. There's so much for me to learn about and I want to learn about it from you. What happened to you, Trey's growing up, the winery, your travels, your life, all of it." His tone of voice became more and more emphatic, his volume louder and his gestures more grand as he spoke. "But you have to want this, too. If you don't, fine. I won't push myself on you, Amy. The decision is yours to make, I meant that.

"You think about it while you're in Indonesia." He turned then, and caught the look of shock on Amy's face, and realized he'd nearly been yelling at her. He stopped pacing and ran his hand across the back of his neck and stared at the floor. He began to stammer. "I-I-I'm sorry, Amy. I didn't mean to yell like that. I…it's just….you bring out these emotions in me, all this frustration and-and…" his voice trailed off and he sat down in his chair hard with a loud sigh.

"We're never going to get anywhere if we can't get past this," Amy told him sadly. "There's so much hurt and pain and regret Bobby. Do you think we can ever get past it," she asked him earnestly.

Bobby looked deeply into her eyes. He saw pain, regret, hurt, all the things she had mentioned and more. He saw a glimmer of the eyes he had once drowned in and that gave him hope. "I hope so. I want to try. Do you?"

Amy continued to look deeply into Bobby's eyes. She saw the same pain, regret and hurt that she knew was in her own eyes. She, too, also saw something more. A flicker, a small spark that brought back that feeling she'd had so many years ago when she first met his eyes and thought to herself that she could be in trouble with this man. Did she want to try? Was it worth the risk? Was Bobby still worth the risk? "I think so."

Bobby raised a single eyebrow at her and tilted his head to the side.

"No," Amy said determinedly. "I know so. Yes. I want to try."

Bobby took both her hands in his and they smiled at each other. Amy let out a small giggle and blushed under Bobby's gaze.

"I'm still scared, Bobby. I don't want to lose you again."

"What's the worst that could happen? We end up as friends. Would that be so bad?" He caressed her cheek gently.

"No, that wouldn't be so bad at all," Amy smiled softly at him and leaned into his caress.

Bobby looked down at the table and noticed the time on his watch. "Amy, it's getting late. I have to go in early to work tomorrow. The Captain wants a full report on all our open cases, and well, I haven't exactly been working on that report this weekend."

"Yeah; you have been…um…slightly distracted." Amy laughed.

Bobby grinned at her in agreement and stood up from the table. He continued to hold her hands and gently pulled her up to stand in front of him. He pulled her close and looked down at her.

"I foresee a problem already," he told her seriously.

"And what would that be," she asked coyly.

"Work. It's pulling us apart already." He pushed her hair behind her ear and continued to look at her. "Can I see you later this week?"

"I'd like that. I'm going to be very busy, getting ready for our trip." She ran her hands down the front of his shirt, straightening some imaginary wrinkles. Bobby suddenly found himself having a hard time concentrating on the conversation as she continued to unknowingly caress him. "If you call me Tuesday morning, I should have an idea how my week will go. Even if it's just a quick lunch, I'd really like to see you before we leave," Amy said shyly.

"Okay," Bobby said softly, before lowering his head and kissing her gently on the lips.

"Oh, Bobby," Amy breathed out as she ended the kiss and rubbed her cheek against his. "I'm so sorry. I've missed you so much." She pulled back and looked him in the eyes again. "I promise I'll try not to be so stupid this time around."

Bobby hugged her to him. "I'm going to hold you to that." He pulled away and smiled at her. "I do have to go." He took her hand and walked quietly with her to the front door of Trey's home. "I'll call you Tuesday," he told her as he moved out the door.

"Tuesday," Amy repeated as she closed the door gently behind him. She leaned her back against the door and sighed, a happy smile on her face.

_Fin….there will be more to come in my next as-yet-untitled story, coming very soon._


End file.
